Of Rogues and Packs
by Stunning Sunset
Summary: Get in, get out, don't be seen. Simple mission orders. Except Logan found a labrat who was too similar to him and decided to keep her. The lone wolf now has to take care of a frightened and traumatized young girl and treat her wounds, physical and mental.
1. A Meeting of Strong Souls

First of all, I certainly dont own X-Men. If I did, Rogue and Logan would have had hot, sweaty sex a long time ago. And for writers out there: never do what I'm doing right now. Never publish a story without making sure that you have a large enough supply of chapters already written so that if you get a writer's block, you can still publish and make sure your readers don't suffer. But no worries, everyone! I'll make sure I update once a week if you review!

Now that that is said…Welcome, minions! I await your reviews. Don't disappoint me or the supreme goddess Muse shall punish you terribly! (add dramatic drum sounds here)

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The lab was so similar to the one in his memories. He had to shake himself not to let his mind be taken in a whirl of nightmares from another time. Semi-lit corridor after semi-lit corridor, he sneaked further in the underground lab, using all his instincts to remain unseen and unheard. His form blended in the shadows easily, the predator in him purring at the hunt, wanting blood.

He stilled abruptly. The smell of blood and chemicals was stronger. Much stronger. Crouching, he looked through the open arch at the room below. And refrained from gasping and rushing in. he closed his eyes for but a moment, shuddering in disgust and blood lust. The Wolverine was clawing at his restraints, urging him to kill everybody and bathe in their blood. Through the grilled footbridge, he observed the scientists, analyzing just in what order he would kill them, fuck Chuck and his "get in, get out, don't be seen." This was bigger than what they had anticipated. It was supposed to be only a small, independent lab that worked on genetics. Apparently, that involved a mutant lab rat. As far as he was concerned, reconnaissance was done. Now came the time for action.

"Do you think the experiment will go well?" assaulted his sensitive ears.

"It continues to resist, but it gets feebler every time. I've no doubt we shall soon reap the benefits of our work. What a great weapon it will be!"

_It_? That was a human being, not an object! Rage filled his being, fuelled by the scientists' offhanded remarks.

Unsheathing his claws, he jumped on top of the gigantic tube in the center of the circular room.

On the floor, the scientists looked up at the roar that shook the place, taking in the sight of the crouching man with extended claws in the shadows, coming up with visions of werewolves howling at the moon. The man jumped down in front of them and clawed at them, sending blood spraying around in showers of crimson.

Chaos erupted in the lab. Wolverine sent the men and women flying, most of them crashing against costly machines, their broken bodies hanging on them like ragged dolls. Cries erupted from behind him, followed by gun shots. So the cavalry had arrived at last. The bullets tore at him, sending flares of pain in his muscles; they didn't manage to slow him down as he jumped at them, relishing in their yells of terror.

"Shit, was that his chick or something?" cried out a man as he shot at him frenetically, sweating heavily. Blood gurgled from his mouth, eyes becoming glazed, as the mutant plunged his claws in his gut.

Wolverine twirled around, eyes flashing, growling ferally, body tensed, ready for a fight. Silence greeted him, punctuated only by the low whirring of machine. As he whirled toward the tube filled with greenish liquid, his eyes met the ones of the young girl suspended in it. They were half-lidded, but in spite of her heavily drugged state, behind them shone a spark of recognition. So her spirit had not been completely broken yet.

"Don't move, girl, I'm gonna get ya outta that thing," he growled.

With a slice of his adamantium claws, the glass of the gigantic tube fell to the floor, spilling the strange liquid. He jumped away, landing on a stainless steel table to avoid being splashed, but soon jumped again, this time in the tube, to catch the girl in his strong arms. He crouched on the bottom of the tube, his black boots splashing the remains of the green substance as he crouched with the girl in his arms. Quickly and efficiently, but carefully, he took out the tubes planted in her body in diverse places, gently tugging them out of her veins. Blood welled on her skin, but nursing her wounds would have to wait until an appropriate time, preferably far away, too. He divested a dead scientist of his smock, fortunately mostly dry, and wrapped the girl in it to cover her utter nakedness. With that done, he gathered the bundle in his arms and plunged his claws in a group of processors. A spark flew and caught a fluid on the floor, igniting it.

"Time to get outta here, girl, the house is burnin' down," he told her as he ran for the exit, knowing that the building would blow up soon enough. "Sleep, baby girl, you're safe with me."

The half-lidded eyes that were scrutinizing his face closed, her head rested on his chest, where she could hear his strong heartbeat, and her body went lax.

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My part is done, yours begins. Review. Now.


	2. Frightened Bird

Minions. Welcome back. I am pleased that you like this story and shall thrive to deliver something up to your expectations. I am less pleased with those of you who only added it to their alerts. For all the trouble it would give you, at least write a "Nice" or something. For this, you shall be condemned to walk the thousand steps up to the temple of the goddess Muse with me on your back. Naked, mind you. You, I mean. Not me. _I _shall be sporting glorious robes of red and gold. Suffer. (Cue diabolic laughter)

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Wind slashed at his face as he drove down a road surrounded by forest in a black convertible. A hand on the wheel, he fished around for his cell phone and flipped it open.

"'Lo, Chuck. … Yeah, I torched the place. It should be nothing more than a pile of ashes right now. … Nah, don't worry, I got the info and I even picked up the disks. I'll send them to you as soon as possible. Everything was as you said. 'Cept they were doing much more than you thought," he said, looking at the girl strapped in the passenger seat from the corner of his eyes. "Yeah, I'll get you back on that. A couple of days, maybe weeks, depending on the situation. Trust me on this, it wouldn't be good for the girl to be around many people at the moment," he continued, remembering his own state when he had come out of that lab, so many years ago. Before he had realized he didn't age. "I'll come back when she's ready. See ya, Chuck."

The sun was rising over the mountains visible on the horizon. Dawn. How fitting.

A few hours later, he stopped at a motel by the road. The place looked cheap enough that people wouldn't ask questions, which suited him just fine, and the sign lacked a few letters, but at least it was not a rundown shack in the middle of nowhere. The guy at the reception desk conveniently forgot he was covered in blood at the sight of a green bill. No matter where you were, a cheap motel was run by people who had a very lax view about morals and legality. Good for them.

He carried the still sleeping girl in the bedroom and set her on a towel on top of the covers–no need to doubt the cleanliness of the bed more than he was already. For the first time, he examined the girl he had saved. She was frail–hardly weighed enough–and looked like an anorexic teenager. Except this teenager was not a stuck-up kid who thought she would impress boys by being a sack of bones. He gently dabbed at her skin, not daring to outright clean her with the wet hand towel. Slowly and meticulously, he rid her body of blood, dirt and grime and frowned. The girl was blue. Not like a Smurf. Like she had been beaten repeatedly. Her body was a mass of haematomas, new ones covering the yellowish healing ones. Had they been trying to "beat the mutantness" out of her or something? His brows furrowed. The girl must not have been much older than sixteen, seventeen at the most, taking into account her pitiful state. Her hair was brown, with white bangs on either side of her face. Signs of the trauma she had suffered from at the lab? He didn't think the scientists would die her hair just for the fun of it. Plump lips, a cute nose, dark eyelashes fanning over her pallid skin. She must have been pretty, once upon a time.

He should give her a bath, but it probably would be better to wait until she was awake. And he was tired. With a sigh, he tucked the girl in, took off his jacket and boots, and lay down on top of the covers. With the blinds drawn, maybe he could catch up on a few hours of sleep.

He woke up suddenly, eyes snapping open, at a butterfly-soft touch. Someone was touching him, touching his cheek. The girl, startled, recoiled, withdrawing with a squeak. She got entangled in the bed sheets and fell rather gracelessly, eyes wide trained on him. A grin dawned on his face as he observed her, supporting his weight on an elbow.

"Well, hello to you too, sunshine. Bit soon to be up, don't'cha think? Catch some more 'Z's, will ya?"

He yawned and rolled on his back, closing his eyes. The adrenaline had long since disappeared, leaving him with an utter tiredness. The girl was not moving. She was probably falling asleep once again. They had not been there long anyway, he estimated. He was just dozing off when he once again felt a feather-light touch. This time, he did not move. Let the girl think he was asleep. The touch moved from his cheek to his mutton chops, stayed there for a while, as though the girl like the feel of them, and moved to his brows. Slowly, what she was doing dawned on him. She was memorizing his face, trait by trait. Forehead. Nose. Lips. Chin. He fell asleep sometime around his chest, her tender, comforting touch lulling him to sleep faster than a bottle of whisky.

When he woke up again, the girl was observing him. Usually, that made him tense, his body reflexively reacting to a potential threat. This time, however, it did not even faze him. Somehow, he knew that she would be watching his every move. Like a skittish animal. He got up, scratching his belly and looked at the girl.

"Gonna take a shower, kid. Then I'll go hunt us down some food. Whaddaya say? Sounds good?"

He did not expect an answer. At least, not a verbal one. Still cocooned in the sheets and blankets, the teenager looked at him, her eyes a little brighter. That was good enough for him.

With a nod, he went to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. However, as soon as the door closed, his sensitive ears picked up accelerated breathing and a barely noticeable whimper. He dashed to open it again; the sound receded.

"Alright, kiddo, I get it. You need to see me to feel safe. I'll leave the door open," he said, leaning against the door frame.

He took off his shirt and tossed it to the floor, unashamed at disrobing in front of a girl. Hell, he'd been naked in front of more women than he cared to count, and had done far more than just taking off his clothes in front of them.

This time, it was a thud that made him turn his eyes in the direction of the bed. The girl had fallen off the bed and was unsuccessfully trying to get up by herself, but her arms trembled under her and it was clear that she did not have enough strength to get up, much less stand by herself. He went to her in a few long strides and kneeled next to her.

"Come on, I'll take you there. Don't hurt yourself, kid."

Slowly, so as not to frighten her, he reached for her and gathered her in his larger frame. After an initial tensing, she relaxed in his hold and put her ear on his chest, inhaling deeply. Was she sniffing him? Apparently, her animalistic instincts were strong in her at the moment. It was probably a defence mechanism that had helped her to cope during the experiments. He had done the same, a long time ago, when he had escaped from whatever lab had experimented on him. Well, as long as he acted like the alpha, she would unconsciously realize that she was under his protection and that he would take care of her needs. Using animal body language would not be too hard for him; it was deeply engrained in him, a part of his rather feral personality. He set her down on the toilet bowl, rubbed her neck just under her ear with his cheek and growled calmly, reassuringly. She bared her neck in response. Good girl.

"Stay here. I'm gonna shower, then I'll bathe you, and then I'll grab us something to eat," he explained, getting out of his pants. He kept an eye on the girl, watching her reaction. Would she tense at seeing him naked? But no, she stayed calm, cheek pressed against the cool tiles of the wall. Observing him calmly. He let his boxers drop to the floor and stepped in the shower, closing the translucent door behind him. Not that it would have bothered him much if she had been able to look at his entire naked form. He was used to nakedness, and apparently, she would soon be, if she wasn't already. He soon finished showering and stepped out, water dripping down on the floor. The girl's eyes followed a drop down his cheek, down his chest, down, down–he wrapped a towel around his waist and put the plug in the bath. He checked the temperature of the water, deeming it a tad too hot, and adjusted it accordingly.

The girl was still naked; he had divested her of the bloodstained lab coat as soon as he had gotten in the room. She would need clothes. He had some of his in a duffle bag in the trunk of the car. They would have to do until he could buy her some. For the moment, he at least didn't have to strip her naked.

"Come on, girl, your turn."

She didn't protest when he sat her carefully in the bath, cushioned by towels. She was just so fragile, like a life-sized doll as he washed her with a hand towel. Once again, he sat her on the toilet bowl, this time floating in a large bathrobe, and carefully blow-dried her hair, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. No use in giving her a chance to catch a cold. In her state, she would either have to be rushed to the nearest hospital–not a good idea for a mutant, especially in her state–or die. _Great _options.

He had to go out to buy them food. She had to stay in the room. His short trip to the car had already left her very distressed. She would not react well to a longer absence.

Thinking quickly, he fished through his bag and handed her the pair of binoculars he had used the day before to observe the lab from afar. She looked at them in confusion.

"I'm going to the hamburger joint just on the other side of the road," he explained. "I won't be long, but you can observe me with those, alright?"

A small light in her hollow eyes. Good.

In the end, he left her at the table next to the window, dressed in one of his T-shirts that engulfed her tiny frame and a pair of his boxers, with the binoculars resting on a pile of pillows and cushions so that she did not have to lift them up with her weak arms.

He nuzzled her cheek, walked to the door. She heard him walk away and looked anxiously at the driveway. After a few long, tense seconds, he appeared, walked across the street and entered the fast-food restaurant. She looked through the binoculars, wanting to miss nothing of the excursion.

Logan entered the restaurant, the bells jiggling above his head warning the waitress, who turned in his direction, that a customer had come in. He walked to the counter, looking at the menu. Would the girl be able to ingest solid food? Probably not. Even soup may be a little farfetched for now. He'd have to settle for a drink or something.

The girl behind the counter was trying a little too hard to be attractive, he noted distractedly. Too much of everything, except meat on her bones. He snorted.

"Give me the largest steak you have, cooked rare, a Molson and an extra large hot chocolate without milk and plenty of honey in it."

The teenage girl, who could not have been more different from _his_ girl, what with her bleached hair and makeup, nodded and sent a smile that he thought she must have felt was seductive at him.

"Anything else, handsome?"

"No."

"Is it to eat here?"

"No. Take-out. Be quick about it," he answered shortly in his usual gruff manner with a tad more tension than when he didn't have a distressed girl waiting for him to come back. He couldn't wait to get out of here. The smell was bad enough; the company was worse.

A bit disappointed, the girl nodded and handed him a receipt. He paid cash, told her to keep the change.

The girl, undeterred, tried to make small-talk.

"I didn't know that men like you like hot chocolate," she ventured, fishing for more in an open tone that was supposed to invite confidences.

"They don't. But I ain't about to bring beer to my girl."

A young man put the wrapped package on the counter. He didn't bother to thank them and left with the bag once the girl handed it to him. He quickly crossed the street, walked up the stairs and opened the door after a sharp knock.

The girl was where he had left her. He put the bag on the table, took the box and beer from it, setting them in front of the only other chair, and swiped the pillows and cushions away. He returned the binoculars to his bag and deposited the hot chocolate in front of the girl. She looked at the tall Styrofoam glass curiously, then at him.

"It's for you. Figured you would like chocolate. There's no milk in it, so it shouldn't hurt your stomach, and there's plenty of honey. It should be good for your throat and give you enough nutrients to get you started on the road to recovery," he explained as he put a straw through the plastic top.

A spark flashed in the girl's eyes as she tentatively took a sip. She looked at him with a shy smile, barely more than an upturn of lips, but it was enough. Her hands clasped around the glass as she drank greedily.

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Reviewers. You have my thanks. The goddess Muse is very pleased with your efforts. Continue.


	3. Hot Chocolate and Cigars

Minions. I see you have decided to go for the intelligent part. MISSY, I am pleased that you have taken my comment to heart. You are hereby forgiven for not reviewing before. Ashmo21, I can never agree with you more. The Alternative Source, bear in mind that I fully intend to make this a story about help, not about petty teenage problems and jealousy. My characters are going to stay normal. Not perfect, but not totally evil either. Except the ones who abducted Logan and Rogue. May they burn in hell. Mrsharrypotter, you are forgiven. Welcome to the cult. , I'm content that you like a caring Logan. Finally, I shall announce my four chosen high priests/priestesses: Dfsemina, Ms-Lady-Phoenix, SharkGurl and The Alternative Source. May you help me corrupt this world with Rogan heavenliness.

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Time went by quickly. During the day, Logan would work with the girl in the morning, helping her to walk short distances, using him as a crutch and support. Her muscles were steadily gaining strength, but she seemed to like being carried by him. In fact, she seemed to like being close enough to touch him. As though he was her anchor, her proof that she was not dreaming and would wake up back in the lab. Her eyes were always watching for escape routes in new places, and she didn't like to be back to a door. He supposed her paranoia was understandable. He was the same, though he could control himself more. Her animal instincts were still very close to the surface and he would always watch her eyes and body language to tell him what she was feeling and thinking. It's not as though she talked. Even now, she remained silent, but she responded to his talking, so at least he knew that she understood him. They would pack and leave shortly before noon; he would then stop at some snack bar or restaurant, order take-out while keeping a close eye on the teenager, and they would eat it further down the road. He would stop at a motel for the night, sometimes two when he decided to fight. His funds had quickly depleted–he had not expected to be gone for so long when he had first left on his mission–and he had resorted to winning money in cage fights. He was used to the system, knew how to make people bet more, so he reigned in plenty of cash. Enough to let them get by for a few days. After his fights, he would go back to the room, where the girl was always waiting faithfully with the binoculars, though she could now bear to be apart from him for a couple of hours. She still preferred to be close to him, but he would not bring her in a bar if he could help it. She was still too fragile, and the loose cotton pants and black T-shirt that read, "Private property" over a long-sleeved green shirt were not making her look any tougher. All in all, it made her look more…cute than anything.

As usual, he went to the bathroom to change, letting his pants fall to the floor. The girl, as per usual, sat on the toilet bowl and looked at him shower through the curtain. As sweat and grime disappeared down the drain, he wondered when was the last time he got laid. Too long, he mused, but he would not indulge in women now. He had a kid to take care of, and while that may not have stopped him with any other kid, she had wormed her way under his skin, through his heart, and had taken residence there–yeah, even he was surprised. She was just so similar to him. He turned off the faucet and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist as he did.

"Ready to sleep, kid?" he asked.

She nodded minutely. Minutes later found them in bed, the girl using his arm as a pillow. His hand spanned her tiny waist protectively, while one of hers was draped across his chest, a hand resting palm flat on the broad expanse of skin. She inhaled his natural masculine scent and relaxed in his hold.

"Hey, kid, we're staying here tomorrow night too. There's a barbecue joint not too far from here. I checked. They serve hot chocolate too. Wanna eat there tomorrow?"

One of her small, shy smiles. She was happy.

He was scouting restaurants for hot chocolate. Who knew he would ever do that? And yet, he could not bring himself to care. Screw all of those who thought he was becoming soft. He would show them his fists were far from soft. Nowadays, the girl could eat solid food, if she masticated slowly, but she seemed to favour hot chocolate. He could not decide whether that was because it brought back memories of her childhood, because it was the first thing she had eaten since she'd been freed, or just because he had been the one to give it to her. Whatever the reason, it always made her smile and the more she smiled, the better.

She was extremely uneasy around other people, he noted. She made sure never to touch them, be it voluntarily or by mistake. She even went out of her way to avoid bumping into anyone, though she seemed to revel in physical contact with him. In fact, she was cuddlier than a kitten.

Normally, he would have sat face to the exit, but she needed to see the door more than he did, so he gave her the spot without fuss. He had only decided to actually eat in the cheap restaurant when he had assessed that the situation presented minimal danger. There were two guys, truck drivers by the look of it, who were sitting in a corner booth on the other side of the room, but besides them, the only human presence was that of the cashier. So he had sat the girl in a booth and gone to the counter to order some food for them both. They had then sat in relative silence, comfortable with saying nothing. He puffed on his cigar; she watched him. To each one their addiction, he supposed.

Their dinner was brought by a waitress with too much makeup on. Typical. She put a plate in front of the girl, then one in front of him, bending down unnecessarily to show him her cleavage. His eyes, however, stayed on the girl, who had huddled in a corner when the waitress had come too close to her for comfort. Growling low in his throat, he calmed the girl, but his growl apparently pleased the waitress. His keen nose smelled the beginning of her arousal; it was high time she disappeared.

"Can I do something else for you, sir?" she purred.

"Look, I'm not interested, so here. Take your tip and kindly leave us the fuck alone," he told her bluntly, shoving a couple of coins at her. It was always better to be frank with her kind of people.

As the waitress left in a huff, probably to protect her mangled pride, he slid into the booth next to the girl and put his arm on top of the banquette. She wasted no time in huddling against his side, throwing fearful glances at the waitress who was looking at her with distaste behind the counter. He put the hot chocolate mug in her frail hands and rubbed his cheek against hers.

"Hush, baby girl, she's gone now. Nothing to fear. You're safe."

His words miraculously relaxed her. She took a sip of the hot liquid and sighed happily, burrowing further into his side. Amusedly, he looked at the top of her head and brought his plate closer.

They were finishing their meal when trouble came in the form of a large man who entered the restaurant and, spotting them, made a bee-line for them with a grin on his tanned face. Logan groaned mentally as he sat down unceremoniously in front of them and observed the slightly bald man with trained eyes.

"Logan, my man! Didn't have a chance to talk to ya yesterday! How long are ya here for?" he asked eagerly, gesturing to the waitress to bring him a beer.

He answered gruffly, hoping that the man would go away if he was curt.

"Just tonight. We're hitting the road tomorrow."

A gleam appeared in the man's brown eyes and he turned his face to openly observe the girl who shrank at his gaze.

"We? That your girl? Not up to your usual standard, is she?" he asked carelessly.

Logan's arm draped around the girl's shoulders protectively, the movement reassuring her and drawing the other man's interest.

"Hey girl, ya ever seen Logan fight? Tha' ol' Wolverine is somethin', lemme tell ya!"

The girl peeked at her protector with curious eyes.

"No, she ain't. Come to the point, Tom. Whaddaya want?" growled Logan.

"Ya wanna see it, girl?" asked the large man, ignoring completely the feral man.

A light appeared in the girl's eyes. He groaned mentally.

"Listen, Tom, that ain't a good idea. She's not good with people," he explained calmly, trying to convey to the man that it really was not a bright idea to bring the young girl to witness a cage fight in a suspicious bar filled with even more suspicious characters.

"Aw, man, don't be such a spoilsport! I'm sure such a pretty thing would like to see her man fight! Not like you're gonna lose anyway, no matter what people think. So you don't have to fear losing face in front of her. And if she's not comfy with people, she can stay next to me at the bar. She won't be bothered, I promise. So? What say you, girl? Ya wanna see? There's nothing more manly than a cage fight!"

The girl looked at him, waiting for his answer. Looking at her, he noticed that some of the shadows that usually haunted her eyes had receded. Well, if she felt that strongly about it, what could he say?

In the end, they followed Tom to the bar. As it was still light outside, there were not many people inside, except some drunkards in a corner and a couple of waitresses busily arranging the room, setting up chairs round tables, polishing glasses and countertops, or otherwise talking lazily about the upcoming night.

"Hey, Tom!" a girl called, followed by various greeting calls coming from the other waitresses.

"Hello, girls. Look who I brought in! The infamous Wolverine!"

The women looked at the man who was helping a girl walk in slowly, as though she had trouble walking. Seeing the usually fearsome man be so gentle with the girl made a few eyebrows raise and made the waitresses wonder what the girl had done to tame the Wolverine.

"Welcome back, Wolverine," said a woman as she brought them beers on a tray. "You fighting tonight?"

"Yeah," he answered, before taking a long gulp of his beer, receiving a nod from the blonde waitress.

"What can I get you sweetie?" she twirled around and asked the girl with an encouraging smile.

"Ya got hot chocolate?" asked Logan.

"Hm, I'm sure we can whip up some for her, if she'd like," replied the waitress.

"Good. Then do that. And if she wants more tonight, put it on my tab."

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This chapter was done and I won't have access to a computer before next week, most probably, so you guys are lucky. Be happy and make me happy. Review.


	4. Bar Fights and Bloody Knuckles

Minions. Continue to review. Our goddess Muse is pleased when you do. She shall reward your efforts.

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The bar slowly filled as time went on. More and more suspicious characters appeared, eager to see brutal fights. Women scarcely better than prostitutes accompanied them, fawning over them as the men groped their asses or breasts roughly. What people wouldn't do for a bit of money.

The girl looked at them through her lashes, never daring to look them in the eyes. The waitresses were very kind to her, always sensing when she wanted some more hot chocolate. Of course, it was engrained in them to know when a client wanted something and when it was time to leave them alone.

She sipped her hot chocolate, licking some whipped cream off of her lips happily. The hot drink helped her cool her nerves, for she was starting to become a bit uncomfortable at the number of people in the bar. Her eyes sought the muscular form of her protector. He was not far away, always making sure she could see him–and he could have an eye on her, too–talking to the bartender and drinking whiskey.

A waitress, a friendly blonde, deposited her tray full of empty glasses and bottles on the counter and began to unload it.

"You know, you got a great guy there. Wolverine, I mean. He's such a beast!" she said with a smile. "There's more than a few women here who would happily snatch him away, but don't you worry your pretty head, dear. He's never looked at anyone with half the care he has for you. Not that I've seen, at least. And this time, he hasn't even looked at any of them. Oh well, they'll still see him chest naked, glistening with sweat when he fights. I suppose you've seen more of him than all of them combined."

She listened to the waitress, keeping an eye on Logan. The blonde saw her gaze and smiled knowingly. She leaned in to whisper conspiratorially: "Don't worry, he never loses. Makes his opponents think they'll win and all, but really, I've never seen him lose a fight!"

With a last wink, her tray now full of glasses and a whiskey bottle, she sauntered away to deliver the order.

Logan nodded at Tom when he was warned his turn was coming up. He snuffed out his cigar and finished his drink in one smooth gulp, slamming the glass on the counter. He got up, stretching his arms behind him and getting the stiffness out of his neck.

"Hey, kiddo, keep an eye on my jacket for me, will ya?" he said, divesting himself of said garment and handing it to her. "Don't get in trouble," he finished, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger to make her look at him in the eyes. "If anything happens, I'll get you outta here immediately. I promise."

He read trust in her eyes and nodded. Her fingertips lightly touched the dog tags on his chest in a familiar gesture of comfort. He marched to the cage, feeling her gaze on him. As he let his shirt fall on a stool in the corner of the cage, he took a deep breath, still feeling his eyes on the rolling muscles of his back. He _really_ hoped she wouldn't react badly to the violence that would ensue.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the strong, the terrible, the unique…Wolverine!"

Block, punch, kick, pretend that he's hurting and has a hard time…and repeat, until the opponent gets overconfident and the crowd is riled up. Then chao, byebye, you're out. Next contestant.

The girl noticed immediately when a group of rowdy, raunchy men, after ordering beers at the counter, set their sight on her. They nudged one another, pointing at her and exchanging vulgar comments about her. She hoped that they wouldn't come near her and tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. No such luck. They approached her in typical macho swagger, not noticing or uncaring that her fingers had clenched so hard around Logan's jacket that her knuckles had become white. She chanced a glance across the counter. Tom was busy serving a group of truck drivers and was too occupied to notice the potentially dangerous situation.

She flinched as a heavy paw fell on her shoulder and turned her head away. Don't look. Don't look and they may go away.

"Hey, baby, why don't cha show us that pretty face o' yours, eh? Don't act coy, now."

The smell of alcohol assaulted her strongly. It was a smell she was familiar with, but it made her level of anxiety rise, blood pumping in her ears.

"Leave her alone, guys, she's already taken. You should find someone else to spend the night with," suggested the blonde waitress, trying to defuse the situation. This could go very wrong if not handled correctly. She glanced at the fighting men in the cage. If Wolverine saw one of these men try anything, there was no doubt there would be bloodshed.

"Fuck off, Monique, I'm talking to the chit. I've done nothing wrong."

"You should still leave her alone. Her man's not gonna like it if you hit on her. And he's not someone you should anger."

Would persisting be enough to make them leave the poor frightened girl alone? She looked close to tears, like a baby bird that had fallen off the nest.

"Shit, Monique, ya're annoying. I can take care o' myself jus' fine."

Apparently not. Thinking fast, she poured a shooter of vodka and, waving a curly red-haired waitress over, handed her the tray with a meaningful stare.

"Here, Gladys. Take this to Wolverine. It's a special order. Don't keep him waiting."

Be fast about it. The younger waitress understood the message perfectly and disappeared in the crowd, just as she was pushed aside by the drunk men who apparently had had enough of her meddling. She managed to catch the girl's eyes, trying to convey that everything would be fine.

Logan returned to his corner of the cage, leaving behind his unconscious opponent. A shooter was pressed in his hand through the bars of the cage and he gave a cursory glance at the woman who had handed him the drink before gulping down the drink.

"Special order," said the waitress with a careful glance at the counter. She disappeared in the crowd once again, sure that he had understood the message. His gaze strayed to the counter, immediately spotting the group of drunkards around his distressed girl. Her mouth was opened in her fright and above the yells of the crowd, he was suddenly able to hear a voice murmur frightfully his name.

The man who had decided to hit on the teenager was tapped on the shoulder. Turning around, he came face to face with an irate Wolverine.

"Hands off, fucker, if ya don't want to lose 'em," snarled the feral man.

Alcohol not only rids people of their inhibitions, it also rids them of their intelligence, it seemed.

"Back off, I saw her first," replied the drunkard.

"No you didn't. She's with me," rumbled Logan, feeling the Wolverine in him claw at his restraints. Both of them wanted blood. He was only keeping the beast under leash to avoid frightening the girl.

The man looked at him contemptuously.

"You her man or something? Wanna fight for her? Whoever wins gets to take her home and have his way with her."

Whatever he could have replied was cut short when the announcer, who apparently had followed the drama that was taking place, exclaimed: "Ladies and gentlemen, a man here has challenged the ruthless Wolverine for the love of the fair maiden! Give a warm round of applause for the courageous chap!"

Suddenly, the drunk and his friends seemed to realize just what he had gotten into and with _whom_ they had gotten in trouble. They tried to back-pedal, but now that the announcement had been made publicly, they could not retract. A corridor opened before them, leading to the cage. Logan grabbed the girl, who huddled against his chest, tucked her securely in his arms and walked steadily to the cage. He sat her on a stool outside the entrance, handed her his shirt, and bent his knees to look at her at her level.

"Don't worry, baby girl. In two minutes, we're outta here," he murmured soothingly, smoothing some hair away from her wet eyes.

He turned around, looking at the scum who was tripping toward the cage with disgust showing in his fiery eyes.

As people clapped him on the back, the man's terrified eyes could not stray from the Wolverine standing on the steps leading to the cage, a bluish light illuminating him from behind, making it impossible to read his features. Smoke curled in the air behind him. He had the overwhelming feeling that he was walking straight to hell and shuddered, imagining a severed head in the man's hand that was not gripping the cage but was at his side. Could almost see the blood dripping down from the head that he would hold by the hair…

And suddenly he was at the cage.

Wolverine walked in before him; the door was closed.

"No escape now," growled his opponent.

The fight began; it was soon clear that Wolverine had been toying with his opponents earlier, so easily did he manhandle his victim–for that was what everyone realized he was, once the angry mutant began to pummel him. He did not pull his punches, feeling bones crack satisfactorily beneath his hands.

The first time the drunkard fell, he kicked him in the ribs, snarling, "Get up, you horny bastard! We're not finished yet!"

The man tried to get up, was yanked up by his shirt, and was punched in the face. He fell down hard on his hands and knees, groaning, and tried to regain his bearings, but his tormentor would not allow him a reprieve, would not allow him to rest.

Once the man was down and unmoving, blood staining his knuckles and boots, Logan looked down at him and walked away without a last glance, reigning in the Wolverine before he killed the man. Though he would not be going anywhere for a while.

He walked down the stairs slowly, the crowd inching away from the man they just now realized was truly as dangerous and ruthless as his name foreshadowed. The girl looked at him unflinchingly with her big brown eyes, no trace of fear in them. He stopped in front of her and did not move. Gently, she reached for his tags and touched them lightly with the tip of her fingers. Before emotions crushed him, he gathered her in his arms once again, her little form dwarfed in his jacket, and walked out of the bar, only grunting at Tom that he would come by tomorrow for his winnings as he passed by the bar.

That night, he crushed the girl against him in his sleep, his arms forming a protective embrace around her.

The next day, she wore his jacket when they left the motel.

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So, was Logan territorial enough for you? No matter how nice he may be to her, he's still not a "nice guy" and he's called Wolverine for a reason, people. Review, now, or suffer!


	5. The Story Behind a Name

Minions, High Priestesses, welcome back. We are now well on our way to convert the world, but we need a few hundred kilos of acorns to pelt the paeans with, so you shall have to contribute. Get climbing. High Priestesses, I expect you to count the sacks so that we have enough. You have permission to whip those who can not climb high enough.

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New town, new motel, same routine. Except Logan was now trying to make the girl talk. Sitting on the only bed in the room, a bed almost identical to the one they had slept in that night she had seen him fight in the cage and nearly been assaulted, he remembered how she had tenderly dabbed at his bloody knuckles, no trace of fear on her. It had somewhat surprised him, what with the trauma most people would suffer from after seeing the way he had dispatched the guy who had hit on her, but it had also not surprised him. The girl believed in him, that much was clear. It just proved that her faith in him was stronger than even he expected.

Propped up by a pillow against the headboard, he was looking at the TV without seeing it, the sounds it emitted barely registering in his brain. What _was_ registering quite clearly was the girl's touch on his knuckles. She would trace them back and forth, another habit she had picked. When she did this, he could sense a peace of mind settle in her. He couldn't fathom why. For most people, blades emerging from his knuckles was the stuff nightmares were made of–and his own really were made of that–and not something that brought a sense of protection and peace. Well, she had seen him fight with the blades when he had rescued her, after all, and they clearly marked him a mutant, so maybe recalling that made her situation seem realer and his presence into a protecting entity.

He wrenched his eyes from the TV that he wasn't even really listening to, the slight movement drawing the girl's eyes.

"You know, girl, while I don't mind the silence, I'd really rather hear your voice."

No answer.

"You can talk. Nobody's gonna blame you for it."

Still no answer, but a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. At least, he was starting to get through to her.

"You called my name the other night, right?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and closed his eyes, head falling back against the headboard.

"I just want you to be able to call for help if you need to."

He opened his eyes and locked his gaze onto hers.

"And I still don't know your name. I can't very well call you "girl" forever, now, can I?"

A minute frown formed between her eyebrows and he had to fight the urge to smooth it out with the pad of his thumb.

Her mouth opened hesitantly, a murmur, barely a whisper, escaping her lips. Without his enhanced hearing, he doubted he would have heard her. Fortunately, he also read on lips pretty well.

"Rogue."

He frowned. What kind of a name was Rogue? Well, he jabbed at himself, what kind of a name was Wolver–oh. If she was anything remotely like him–which she was, if he was truthful to himself–her name would have been given to her at the lab. Had she had dog tags with her name and a number around her neck too? He mentally shuddered. He told himself to suck it up, berating himself.

"Rogue…That the equivalent to my Wolverine? Then what's the equivalent for Logan?"

He mentally prayed that she would answer. Apparently, his hope or something must have shown in his eyes, because after a moment of careful scrutiny, her lips wrapped around a new word, this time a little louder than the last time. Not by much, mind you, but enough that he could perceive it; it felt like an improvement.

"Marie."

A smile, almost a smirk, found its way on his face. He brushed one of her white bangs away from her face and looked at her with something akin to affection in his eyes.

"Marie. Yeah, that suits you much better."

She curled next to him, prompting him to put an arm around her, and looked at him with one of her happy shy smiles that made her eyes lighten. He found himself wanting it to never disappear.

He did not force her much to speak after that, letting her adjust and go at her own pace. In fact, the next time she spoke in one of her hushed whispers completely took him by surprise as she was the one to actually initiate the talking. She had been tracing his knuckles with her fingers as she was wont to do, while he distractedly watched a hockey game on the TV when her carefully-spoken words wafted to his sensitive ears.

"Does it hurt?"

He had looked at her upturned face, surprised, with a "Huh?" that had made her rephrase her question patiently.

"When they come out, does it hurt?"

His face had remained carefully blank, even though his eyes warmed, as he had answered, "Every time."

Maybe that was the answer she had been looking for. That despite his mutation, he was still human, and so was she. That she was more than an experiment.

And so, the girl had started to talk. Not much, and mostly whispering or talking very softly, but he liked it. Her voice was calming and sweet like her. She was a good kid.

In the end, no matter how peaceful they were in each other's presence, their subconscious had a way to remind them that life could be very hurtful and cruel. Although they were few and far between, the nightmares the both of them suffered from were usually very vivid–as was the pain they could remember was associated with the memories they revisited in their dreams. Dreams of labs, tubes filled with liquid, syringes and scientists clad in white coats were not that infrequent for both of them. They would then wake up screaming their throat hoarse, only to find that the nightmare they were plagued with was a thing of the past. They would curl up around each other, huddling together more to share a feeling of protection than to keep warm.

On one such occasion, Logan had to hold her in his firm hold for over half an hour before the teenager stopped shivering. He knew better than to urge her to go back to sleep, knowing that she would only return to her nightmare–memories, he reminded himself, clamping down the urge to snarl.

So he secured her in his arms, rolled on his back, and let her rest on his chest. He rubbed a hand on her back, the other resting by her hip as his arm encircled her waist easily in a familiar comforting weight.

"Shh, baby girl, that's only a bad memory that's not gonna happen again. Never, I promise. You wanna talk about it?"

He wouldn't force her, but he knew that for most people, it helped to talk about traumatizing experiences. He, for one, simply drove them away in a cage.

The girl opened her eyes and looked at him unwaveringly.

"I…"

She gulped and averted her eyes, making him frown at the wetness he could see in them. Her whole body language and scent radiated distress. He stopped rubbing her back and turned her head towards him once more, forcing her to look in his eyes. He pierced her with his gaze, hoping to convey that he cared for her and was only worried about her.

She took a shuddering breath and hid her head in the crook of his neck, taking in his natural manly scent. Her voice was muffled when she answered.

"You'll hate me."

A low growl made his chest rumble and his arms tighten around her.

"Never, darlin'. I'll never hate you and I'll certainly never leave you."

She lifted her upper body to look at him in the eyes, her teary eyes tugging at his heart as she looked at him with a hopeful expression.

"Promise?" she asked in a timid voice that made him feel he could crush her or make her at that moment.

His voice was even stronger than for his previous statement as he replied, "I promise."

Still propped up above him, she began to recount her tale.

"When Ah gained my mutant powers, Ah had no control over them. With one touch, Ah would take the life force of someone, leaving them in a coma if it was not for long or dead if Ah touched them for a longer period of time. Ah was horrified and ran away from home the first time it happened. And then…then Ah was found. They…they said they wanted me to work for them. To kill people. They forced me to when Ah refused. Brought people and forced them to touch me when Ah was strapped to a table. The first time Ah touched a mutant, Ah realized Ah could gain their powers. They only brought mutants after that, hoping Ah would absorb their powers. Said Ah would be the ultimate mutant, the ultimate killing machine. Ah made them think that once the powers faded after a few days, Ah couldn't gain access to them anymore."

Logan pulled her on top of him, asking: "But you could?"

She nodded tiredly.

"Yeah, Ah could. With more concentration, like they're buried in a coffin deep inside me, but Ah can. Ah thought…Ah thought that would make them stop killing mutants by making them touch me for too long. … It did…but they decided to try to tweak mah powers to see if they could make the effect permanent. It…hurt so much! Ah cried for them to stop, but they never did…In the end, Ah decided to make them think Ah had lost mah powers. With one of their injections, Ah had discovered that Ah could switch mah skin on and off with a thought, so the next time they injected me with something, Ah made them think Ah had lost mah powers, hoping that once Ah was not useful anymore, they would kill me…But they wouldn't…They kept saying Ah was too useful, that Ah had too much potential to let me go…Ah could only escape by listening to the voices in mah head to escape reality…"

Logan frowned even more than he was.

"Voices?"

Once again, the girl nodded and explained, her voice still as soft as it always was as she murmured: "When Ah touch someone, Ah gain their memories and…something…part of their consciousness, Ah guess. Ig Ah touched you, Ah would have a second Logan in mah head that could talk and think like you. Does that make any sense? It sounds strange even to mah ears…Ah usually lock them in a corner of mah head so Ah don't have to listen to all of them commenting all the time. That…the memories and voices…they never knew about it…Ah managed to keep it from them. Ah don't want to hurt people, I never wanted to, Logan, but they made me! I swear I didn't want to! I–"

Logan cut her off with a growl, rubbing his cheek under her ear.

"I know, baby, I know. It's not your fault. Rest, I won't leave you."

He continued to murmur encouragements in her neck, feeling the tension in her body gradually leave. He never once moved his arms from around her thin frame, hoping he could go back and exterminate al the bastards who had hurt her once again, more violently and painfully. Both of them ended up falling asleep in that position.

Maybe it was her nightmare that triggered his, but the next night, he was the one to wake up screaming with a raw throat. He was firmly gripping something soft and pliable to him, like a pillow, except no pillows smelled like his little bird. When, after only a few moments, he regained his bearings and let up his death grip on her. To his surprise, she pulled him back to her and he found his head cushioned by her breasts, a hand coursing through his hair in a decidedly motherly fashion. His eyes drooped heavily, sleep wanting to claim him again, her voice convincing him to let himself be lulled back to sleep. He could not remember going to sleep in a woman's embrace. The only times he had lain with a woman–that he could remember, mind you, there was still a big hole in his life–he had only partaken in one night stands. The "love'em and leave'em" was as close to emotional he would get with women when he needed release. But he wasn't looking for release with Marie. She was more than that, someone who could actually and not just pretend to, with the best intentions. Her past was similar to his, a kinship born from their experiences.

And yet she would have to leave her zone of comfort to go to the Mansion. It was only a question of time.

So a few days later, when he asked her whether or not she was feeling up to going at the school and she asked, "Are you gonna be there?" with a slightly lost expression that made her look too much like a lost puppy for him, he answered positively and watched as a brilliant smile bloomed on her face.

"Then Ah don't fear anything."

Her response warmed him inside with the trust she had in him and the affection in her tone. So even if they were on the road again, this time heading for a certain school for mutants, Logan could not find it in him to be disgruntled at the thought that he was going back to a place where loud-mouthed brats would roam around and be all messy and annoying.

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Before you say Logan is too cuddly or something, bear in mind that he feels close to Rogue due to their similar experiences and that while he feels protective and territorial, he doesn't look at her as a potential lover yet. For now, he's content to be there for her. I believe that true love is not sprung on you but gets attained over time. On another note, would you look at that! He finally knows her name! Congrats, Logan. And they're going back to the X-Men! Ahem. Craziness aside, review. That's an order. Or my gigantic pet snakes will gobble you up for dinner and let you macerate in their stomachic juices that will digest you for months. Ye have been warned.


	6. Icecold Warmth

Minions. I have received a flame. Apparently, this story, while well-written, is a crappier version of a story already published here. Take out your acorns. While I may have ideas similar to those of other people–I suppose humans are bound to think the same way–I have never stolen a plot before and I have no idea which story my anonymous flamer was talking about because it wasn't even mentioned. That being said, I hope the return to the Mansion will please you. There's a bit more action there than usual, but I tried to keep the same tone as before. Lastly, I've been asked how you could become a High Priestess. Simple. Give me reviews that will make me laugh and/or feel all warm and fuzzy once and you'll become a Priestess. Then you have to keep reviewing and I'll grant you a higher status.

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The black car rolled toward the garage, students lazing around in the sun on the grounds looking up as it went by. Logan's ears picked up comments of "Hey, look, Wolverine's back," "Who's that girl?" and "Wonder how long he'll stay this time." In the end, he decided that going in through the garage was probably not the best idea and stopped the car in front of the mansion with a screech of wheels. He got out of the car and took their duffle bag from the back seat while Rogue stepped out, a bit intimidated by the open gazes of curiosity they were garnering. Even without Logan's sensitive hearing, she could tell that they were talking about the two of them.

Sensing her distress, Logan put an arm around her, leading her into the mansion, and allowed her to hide her face in his side. Despite how much she had healed and grown, she still did not like being the center of attention. His protective instincts flared to life; he barely refrained from snarling at the students to fuck off. As it was, he managed to keep his inner Wolverine at bay and ignored the teenagers and their whispers of "Whoa, do you see that? The Wolverine is letting the girl touch him!" and other such idiocies. Mentally rolling his eyes, he went in and grunted angrily. The hall was full of a giant ice sculpture that took over the place in gigantic spikes, making it impossible to go directly to Xavier's office.

_Hey, Chuck, Iceprick messed up the hall, so I'm gonna take a detour. Be in your office in a few._

_Alright, Logan. I await your visit._

They would have to go up the stairs on the side of the hall, which led to a sort of indoor balcony-like terrace that looked over the entrance hall. From there, they would have to go down the corridor, take some more stairs to return to the ground floor, and then go to Xavier's office. How annoying. He glanced at the girl at his side. She was regaining her muscle strength, but going up the stairs would take a lot out of her and he didn't want her to be completely exhausted.

"Hang on to me, darlin', okay?"

To the surprise of the students who happened to chance upon them, Logan took Rogue in his arms and ascended the stairs with a girl looking quite at ease in his arms.

And then the other three X-Men entered the mansion, no doubt warned by Xavier that he wanted to see them in his office to meet the new girl. Groaning mentally, Logan knew that he had better warn them of some facts away from the girl's ears if he wanted everything to go smoothly. Carefully, he set her on her feet at the top of the stairs and told her softly that he had to speak to the three adults, adding at her distressed look that he would not be long and that he would stay where she could see him. Mellowed, she nodded and settled for watching him, leaning against the railing.

Logan quickly went to Scott, Jean and Ororo, the latter being the only one who seemed completely at ease. Scott was outright glaring at him and Jean sported an uncertain look.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" snapped Scott. "She's just a child! Keep your mangy paws off her, you horny bastard!"

"Can it, One Eye," snarled the feral man in response, making them shiver at the feel of his inner Wolverine so close to the surface. "I don't like you any more than you like me, but for once, look past your views about me! She needs me–"

"What, so you decided to make her your latest conquest?" snorted Scott, crossing his arms angrily.

The three X-Men tensed when tension radiated from their irate counterpart, a menacing growl rumbling in his chest as his blades slid through his knuckles. His body was lightly shaking, his hands more so, as he fought the urge to plunge the claws in Scott's gut.

"Are you accusing me of taking advantage of her?" he asked darkly, his eyes glaring daggers at the other man. "That girl could not walk when I first found her because of what those bastards at the lab did to her! Even now, she has some difficulty and I knew she would exhaust herself if she went up the staircase by herself! But I guess you couldn't understand that, huh? 'Cause no matter how much of a bastard I may be, I actually _know_ how she feels! _I've_ been strapped to a metal table before and hoped for death to claim me! How about you, _boy_? Ever felt so utterly alone and tortured that your only wish would be for death to come sooner?"

Scott instinctively took a step back at the raw pain laced in Logan's furious words. Logan had never been forthcoming with his past and he had let it stay that way, unwilling to pry in the past of a man he disliked so strongly. And now he had a glimpse of what lay behind the Wolverine's green eyes. It made him feel powerless as a child.

Logan snorted.

"I didn't think so. So don't pretend to know what's best for her. I've taken care of her all this time and it's been going well. If she doesn't do well here, I'll leave with her again, that clear? Now, Red, I know you wanna examine her an' all to see how she's doing, but the medical ward is really not the best place for her. And whatever you do, don't–"

A cry rang loudly in the hall, making him whirl around, his eyes immediately widening in fear. The familiar tang of blood assaulted his nose aggressively; his heart thumped in his ears, blocking all other sounds.

Marie looked at Logan, down below. He was far away and spoke low enough that she could not hear him, but his body language indicated that he was not happy. She fretted silently. Were those people unhappy that he had brought her here? More than that, she was feeling tension ease back into her body, old fears taking hold of her. She was not at ease around other people, and Logan wasn't even there, next to her, to help her cope. A hand fell on her shoulder, making her shudder and flinch away from the touch, turning around so fast she nearly had whiplash. Her wide eyes encountered the surprised face of a boy close to her age. He recovered fast and gave her a smile.

"Hi, my name's Bobby. You're the new girl the Wolverine brought, eh? What's your name?"

Though he was friendly, someone she didn't know standing this close to her made her uncomfortable and she inched away subtly, hoping he would leave her alone once she had assuaged his curiosity.

"Rogue," she answered softly, as usual. He would not get her real name. That vulnerable side of her, she was not letting anyone beside Logan see it. For everyone else, she was Rogue, a mutant who could kill with a touch.

"Nice meeting you, Rogue. Were you looking at my sculpture? I did it this morning. Pretty cool, huh?"

She belatedly realized that he was trying to make her open up and make her feel at ease, but his attempt fell flat when a cheery voice cut in, "Hey, have you heard who's back after _ages_?"

A girl, followed by a group of teenagers, stopped next to them, eyes widening.

"Oh, you're the girl he brought back! Welcome to Mutant Academy! What's your mutation?"

She was close. Too close. And the others were crowding closer, too, to hear what she had to say. It was too much. She needed space, needed to breathe, needed to get out of here… under her clenched hands, the railing groaned and creaked dangerously. Still they babbled away, taking no notice of her state, talking and coming closer. In an effort to break away from the suffocating sensation, she wrenched herself away from them, backward, backward, backward…

She toppled over the railing, eyes fixed on those disbelieving stares she got from the teenagers, stares that turned into shock, horror–and then pain cut through her and she closed her eyes, tried to close herself from the world as cold assaulted her at the same time as white-hot pain. And then warmth encased her, warmth that felt like home, and she clung to it, blood pooling in her mouth.

Logan ran at the sculpture.

_No._

He quickly scaled it, with the frenetic movements of a desperate soul.

_No!_

His claws swiped through the stalagmite impaling the fragile girl.

_NO!_

He jumped to the ground, holding his precious cargo in his arms, her blood running down his hands, staining his clothes with bright splashes of cheery crimson.

_No, no!_

He placed her carefully on the ground, taking no notice of the people screaming around them. Her cheek was cold to the touch; it was the most frightening thing he had ever felt. Jean and Ororo kneeled next to him; he took no notice of them.

"Come on, baby girl, open your eyes for me," he pleaded, forcing his voice to remain calm despite how shaken up he felt.

For the longest second of his life, she did not react. Fear clenched his heart painfully, erasing all sounds except that of his blood thumping in his ears. And then her eyes fluttered slightly. He inhaled sharply through his nose and waited with baited breath.

"Come on, baby, look at me," he repeated pleadingly, cursing his shaking hands.

Her warm brown eyes finally managed to look at him with a pain-filled gaze.

"Log–ughn…H…hurts…"

To his dismay and horror, a thin trail of blood flowed from her mouth. Shit, her lungs had been touched. Beside him, Jean murmured, "Logan, we have to bring her to the infirmary if we want to have a chance to help her in time…" Immediately, Rogue tensed and began to hyperventilate, drawing more blood in her damaged lungs. She coughed painfully, the red liquid of life flowing more than ever from her wounds and mouth.

"Not now, Red," he hissed, and added, after a fearful glance at the pallid girl below him, "She wouldn't make it anyway. I've got a better idea."

He returned his whole mind to the task at hand.

"I know, darlin', I know it hurts, but not for long. Come on, I need your help, baby," he said as calmly as he could.

She hacked painfully, eyes screwing shut at the pain.

"W–What?" she whispered.

"Use your mutation. Please, baby, turn your skin on for me."

Around him, the others looked questioningly at him, but he didn't reply to the gazes he felt boring a hole through his head.

"N…I don'ttt…want to h–hah!–hurt you…" she panted harshly.

He ran a hand through her hair tenderly, stroking her cheek gently and gingerly. His thumb smeared her blood across her cheeks like an indelible mark of death.

"Don't you worry about me, darlin', just do it, come on…"

She made a mumbled noise of protest, but he ploughed on, "Come on, baby, I promise you won't kill me, so just do it…"

This time, she mouthed a single word, the sound barely passing through her lips.

"Promise?"

"Yeah, baby girl, I promise. I'll never leave you."

The desperation he felt changed to hope and serenity when he felt his life being sucked out of him rapidly through the hand he had put on her cold cheek.

Everyone watched in horrified amazement as Logan's skin suddenly turned gray, his veins showing in stark contrast. His eyes widened, his mouth opening as though he was trying to suck in air but couldn't. A choking sound died in his throat at the same time as the girl's skin returned to a healthier colour. Not much than a minute later, Logan collapsed on top of her gasping body. She shot up immediately, touching his face in fear.

"Logan? Wake up. Wake up, Logan, you said you wouldn't leave me!"

Her cries became frantic as she rolled the unconscious man on his back and shook him in vain. A red-haired woman approached her, telling her that they should get him to the medical ward. Clearly, she did not expect the girl to snap at her angrily in a manner all-too reminiscent of that of a certain resident Wolverine and almost bite her head off in the process. Literally.

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Hard to write, but are you guys as excited about this chapter as I am? Okay, now to write some witty end-of-chapter note…O.O'

Is there blood on your acorns now? Wipe them and put them back in your bags unless they are in cinders and powder from the force and anger that fuelled you when you lynched the flamer.


	7. Pack Mates

Faithful minions. Sorry for not updating sooner. At first, I was discouraged about the flames and getting reported, and I frankly did not feel up to writing (I'd probably have spouted some downright depressing story) and then I was pretty busy, but I finally did it! Yay for me. I am pleased to say that so far, it seems like this story will not be taken down. I was frankly overwhelmed at the response I got from you guys. You rock. I'll do my best to satisfy you and keep the chapters coming. Now, with all the help of the Goddess Muse, I deliver this chapter to you. Be very happy.

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Marie was confused. Marie was afraid. Marie was panicking. Marie took a backseat and the new personality she had just acquired took precedence over her own, like a cloak had suddenly covered her. The woman who had approached her–Red, her inner Logan identified her as–seemed like bad news. She barred her teeth in warning, growling low in her throat, and crouched over Logan in a protective stance that was unmistakable.

The woman still came closer and tried to touch Logan–she snapped; her teeth clamped down on air scant millimetres from the pretty doctor's hand. She had good reflexes, but if she tried again, no matter how fast she could retreat her appendages, she would find herself saddled with more than just a warning bite.

"We want to help Logan just as much as you," explained Jean, "but to do that, we have to get him to the hospital ward."

For a long, tense moment, Marie didn't say anything, keeping her distrusting eyes on the beautiful woman. Hospitals were bad, hospitals were dangerous, but she had to think about what was best for Logan. Finally, she nodded, looking at Jean straight in the eyes.

"Alright, Red, lead the way. I'll take him there."

Scott coughed loudly, suggesting that Jean use her telekinetic powers to "levitate the beast to the infirmary." Immediately, Rogue was at his throat with a growl and a dark glare fixed on her pretty features.

"You listen and listen good, Bub. Logan may be feral, but he's not a beast and I won't tolerate that shit coming from anyone. That clear? If someone's acting like a beast right now, it's you. Who would stoop so low as to insult an injured man?" she snarled disdainfully. Without another glance at him, she squatted next to Logan's prone form and pulled him carefully on her shoulder, his heavy weight not even fazing her.

"Let's go."

Somewhat uncertainly, but noticing that the girl was doing fine on her own, Jean nodded and lead her to the elevator. Everyone stepped out of their way, more out of fear of the new girl's mutation than respect or solemnity at the situation.

Her heart thumped loudly in her ears when the elevator doors closed, but it was nothing compared to the frantic distress and utter fear that clawed at her when they stepped out into a sterile corridor. Her every instinct was yelling at her to get as far away as possible, but she repeated mentally her mantra of "It's for Logan, it's not dangerous, he needs to go there to heal" to refrain from turning tail and running.

The infirmary doors opened with a wave of Jean's hand and she entered her domain with long, graceful strides, only turning around when she heard a shuffle of feet. The new girl, looking as tense as a bow, cautiously stepped in, breathing hard. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead to her clenched jaws. A look of fierce determination was plastered on her face, just like her hair, and the red-haired doctor found herself wondering why. The girl had clearly had no problem hauling Logan around until now, so why did it look like it was taking her a tremendous effort to walk now? And then she remembered what Logan had told her about the girl. How she had been experimented on in a lab and that she should not go in the medical ward.

Pain and reminiscence. That was what the child had to feel at the moment, as she forced herself to step in a territory so alike the one in which she had been basically tortured. A surge of maternal instinct filled her and she suddenly had the urge to take the fragile girl in her arms and shield her from the world's harshness.

The girl, tension oozing out of her pores, cautiously walked to the bed, eyes darting everywhere in a manner all-too reminiscent of that of a cornered animal. She carefully laid the unconscious man on it, refusing to step back more than a few inches, her eyes roving over his large form.

Feeling that it would be useless to try to convince the girl to leave Logan to her, Jean instead adopted a comforting tone and moved slowly, so as to not startle the teenager into aggressiveness in reaction to a perceived threat.

"He'll be fine, you'll see. What's your name?"

The girl eyed her with open distrust before returning to Logan, dismissing her with a curt, "Rogue."

For the briefest of moments, Jean found herself thinking that the girl acted more like a pack mate than a rogue, but her attention shifted back to her patient and the thought disappeared as quickly as it had come.

By the time Jean had finished treating Logan, Rogue was breathing hard, hands clenched painfully as though to ground her to reality. She had reacted especially badly at the sight of syringes, and the doctor had had to explain to her that she was not going to hurt Logan. Now, with tubes sticking out of his body and a sheet covering his mostly naked body, the feral man looked like he was merely sleeping.

Knowing all they could do now was wait for him to get better, Jean suggested gently that Rogue go see the Professor to discuss her stay at the Mansion. Immediately, the slender teen huddled closer to the bed, unwilling to move, and shot her a lost gaze before turning back to the unconscious man.

She had a feeling the girl was afraid that Logan would suddenly roll over and die if she left him for even a moment. A surge of compassion washed over her.

"He won't die that easily, you know; he's a survivor. Thanks to his mutation, he'll heal quickly, but it will probably take a few days and there's no guarantee he'll wake up before then. How about we get you changed, then grab a bite and see the Professor, and you can come back to see how Logan is doing before the curfew?"

Rogue stayed silent for a long while, finally nodding and following the older woman silently–in fact, her footsteps were so silent that Jean once turned around to check whether she was still following her and was flabbergasted to see the girl literally prowling like a predator with an unnaturally fluid grace that she had only ever seen in Logan. It was disturbing how much like the gruff man the small teen was acting.

Eventually, the girl strayed from Jean and the doctor had to scramble to find her, wondering where the teen was going. It turned out that she managed to find Logan's bedroom by herself. As she asked herself aloud how she could have found it among all the other rooms, Rogue answered in a calm matter-of-fact way that it was where Logan's scent was the strongest. The doctor had to shake her head at the thought that the girl had just sniffed out Logan's room like a hunter dog before said girl entered, looked around and, with a satisfied sigh, went straight to a large chest, retrieved some of Logan's clothes and disappeared in the bathroom.

Jean was left standing in the middle of the room, nonplussed and feeling like disturbing the sanctity of Logan's bedroom would anger Rogue far more than she could deal with. She did not have to wait long–the blood should have been much harder to scrub off, really–and soon the girl stepped out of the bathroom, clad in too-big jean maintained in place by a decidedly male belt and rolled at the bottom, her pair of sneakers and a white sleeveless shirt that clearly belonged to a large, muscled man currently unconscious on the medical ward.

"Ya ready, Red?" asked the teenage girl with a smirk, her sexy smirk _exactly_ like Logan, a lit cigar at the corner of her mouth. Her whole demeanour screamed "Sexy, confident, dominant alpha male." It was disturbing.

"Ah…Yes. You should be hungry, right? I'm sure I can find something to whip up in the kitchen."

Rogue shrugged.

"As long as there's beer, I don't care what grub you feed me."

Jean sighed mentally. Was that the girl's true personality? Had she been influenced that much by Logan during the time they had been together? Yet before she had sucked the life out of Logan, she had been drastically different. Maybe she had absorbed his personality as well as his mutation at that time.

She was wondering how long Rogue would have Logan's abilities and persona when they entered the kitchen. As it so happened, it wasn't deserted, even though dinner time had long since passed.

The male turned around at the sound of the door opening; Rogue stopped at the sight, tension suddenly pouring out of her in waves and hate in her eyes.

"Hey! You're the girl from earlier, the one who was with Wolverine. Remember me? I'm Bobby. I, er, just wanted to say sorry, you know, for–"

He was cut off abruptly when the snarling growl that had been building in the crouching girl's throat erupted in a clearly hostile sound that called for bloodshed.

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Reviews will strengthen the Goddess, so send 'em to me! By the way, just because I don't always reply to your reviews (though I do try to) doesn't mean I don't appreciate them or read them.


	8. Feral Reactions and Human Emotions

Minions from all places, welcome back. I have taken into account what you told me in your reviews. Special thanks go to macellarious. Thanks for your constructive criticism, I hope this chapter will please you. Now that this is checked off the list, my next point is: with no access to a computer, there will be no update this week. Also, people have commented that this relationship is going too fast, that Rogue is healing too rapidly, etc. May I remind you that in this timeline, it has been months since Logan found her? And don't worry, I don't intend to make Logan into a cuddly teddy bear.

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Her nose prickled at the scent of nervousness coming from the teenager. It was nearly choking her in its intensity. And mixed with that stench was the boy's normal body odour that would forever be associated in her mind with pain and blood and a cologne or an aftershave–she really couldn't be bothered to differentiate the two concepts at the moment–that assaulted her nose just as much as the odour of his nervousness. It was a type of scent that young males wore to smell good to females and attract them, but to her sensitive nose, it was like the bottle had been pressed against her nostrils. Too much. Too much was fake on this male. A real male would not strive to hide his scent. A real male would not smell like nervousness _because there would be no reason to_ in the first place. And this pathetic excuse for a male was trying to befriend her?

Her instincts screamed at her to make him submit to her, to make him learn his place as a beta at best–he was lucky only pups were omega. The snarl that ripped from her throat was one of warning: back down _now_.

The male stilled at the sound, puzzled and somewhat frightened, his nervousness escalating and slowly being tinted by subconscious fear caused by her intimidating body language.

She growled loudly, stalking over to him, and snorted in satisfaction when he retreated. With barely a glance at him, she brushed past him and went straight to the fridge, taking out a bottle of beer with a pleased nod and uncorked it, downing half of it in one gulp and putting it down on the counter with a thunk afterward, observing the other two mutants.

Jean sighed in relief when the escalating tension receded, grateful that things had been resolved peacefully, although she wasn't quite sure what had happened back then. All she knew was that somehow, the girl had been satisfied and had resorted to downing a beer with a glint of contentment in her eyes.

The doctor carefully walked to the counter and took out a large slab of meat from the refrigerator. If Logan's habits had imprinted on the teenager to the point of her choosing a beer over food and acting like him, she would probably welcome a tender steak. And so she began to cook it rare. Eyes on the pan, she didn't feel the young girl come near her and observe her while leaning backward against the counter on her elbows, her bottle of beer dangling between her fingers. Therefore, when she spoke up in a low, sinful drawl that was firmly stamped in her mind as Logan's, she nearly jumped at the sound and whirled around sharply.

"Ya know, Red, you got a housewife feel to you right now. With your hair in a bun like that…It's damn sexy."

Jean felt her cheeks redden and her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. Her mouth opened, words failing her, but before she could utter anything, the new girl rounded on Bobby, her eyes now flashing angrily. Her nose flared as she positively snarled, "Back off, you horny bastard, ya ain't invited. Keep it in your pants or lose it, Bub, that clear?"

The putrid smell of his fear cloaked over that of his arousal. Satisfied, Rogue nodded almost imperceptibly, but this time, she wanted a more permanent solution to the disturbance. Stalking up to him, she yanked him off by his shirt and basically threw him out of the room, closing the door shut behind him with more force than necessary. Her hands were clenched tightly at her side as she forced herself not to open the door and pummel the boy to make him learn his place. Instead, she prowled up to the red-haired doctor and smirked, said smirk widening even more when she heard footsteps approaching the closed door and smelled the man behind it.

"Bobby?" came a muffled voice. "What are you doing here, sprawled on the ground?"

"It's the new girl, professor–"

This was going to be fun. Time to step up the game.

"Now, Red, what do you say we take this to another place?" she asked cockily with a raised eyebrow.

The older woman stopped breathing, turning around only to see that the smaller teen had caged her in, arms on either side of her.

"Wha–Rogue, what are you–" she began uncertainly, only to be cut off abruptly.

The door swung open and Rogue turned her head lazily to see a shocked and fuming Scott on the threshold.

"What is going on here? Take your hands off my girl!" he exclaimed angrily, stalking in the room.

Smirk widening, Rogue looked him over, eyes trailing up and down his fit body, enjoying the shocked tremble it elicited.

"Are you sure you want me to do that, Bub? She looks mighty comfy with me. And maybe, if you ask nicely, I could even let you join us," she suggested with a confident look in her eyes, clearly challenging the man.

Before her befuddled boyfriend could answer, Jean regained her bearings and asked, "Rogue, why are you doing this?"

Half-lidded eyes turned to her, freezing her in place. That lazy smirk was beginning to make her on edge and was just ridiculously unnerving. She shouldn't have that effect on her.

"Why, Red, One Eye's reaction is half of the fun, of course. Thanks for the steak," she said, changing abruptly the subject, snatching the slab of meat from the pan with her bare hands and tearing a piece of it with ease, popping it in her mouth. She licked her lips, catching the residue blood on her tongue, and strolled out of the kitchen, calling out, "You guys enjoy your privacy time, now. Don't bother showing me to Chuck's office, I know the way!"

-:-

Logan woke up slowly, the sterile air of the medical ward sifting through his brain at once, bringing with it discontentment. His throat felt parched and his limbs heavy like lead. It was as though he couldn't muster up the energy to move his adamantium-clad skeleton, like he was a regular human. The thought made him snort.

He heard her footsteps and smelled her unique scent long before she came to his side and put her hand on his chest. His eyelids cracked open, destroying the fogginess that had penetrated his mind but not the languorous feel of his limbs.

The redhead smiled gently, relief apparent in her face, like a mother whose child had finally gotten better after a serious illness.

"How are you feeling?" she asked in her soothing voice, each word feeling as though it was pronounced with the utmost care and tenderness.

Logan's sarcasm won over, though in his state, it was considerably uttered in a calmer and more softly joking voice than it would usually have been.

"Fantastic"

"That was a brave thing you did" murmured Jean with something akin to reverence in her voice, something like compassion and admiration together, something that felt like acceptance and _home_.

"Did it work?" he asked too croakily for his taste, almost wincing. He did not want to be confined in the hospital wing any more–and probably even less–than necessary.

"Yeah, she's fine. She took on a few of your more charming personality traits for a while, but we lived through it. We had to force her to take a rest, but I think she'll be back in no time. It seems like your recklessness for your health has rubbed off on her."

He answered her smile with a low chuckle, just as the door to the hospital ward opened. The footsteps that had been almost hesitant before changed to a fast pitter-patter as the very girl they had been talking about ran excitedly to his bedside.

"Logan! You're awake!"

Protective warmth rose in his chest at her sight. She looked fine, but she could not hide the paleness of her skin that was unmistakably due to long, sleepless nights.

"That I am, little girl. And _you_ seem to have gotten around to some mischief. I trust you didn't do anything I wouldn't do, eh?" he laughed. "Now you tell me all about it and don't leave out the good parts, Red here can close her ears off if she feels prudish about anything!"

As Rogue became more animated than she had ever seen her, Jean found herself not even caring that Logan just up and left the infirmary without waiting for her to give him the OK. Somehow, the scene seemed simply _right_.

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Alright, people, sorry for the wait and to those of you who were waiting to see Bobby get beaten to a pulp. Beating people up remains Logan's job and prerogative. (insert evil laughter here) And I know that you like when I take scenes from the movies and twist them to make them fit, so you tell me how I did. Then pray to the Goddess so that inspiration doesn't ever leave me for this story.


	9. Of Despondancy and Normalcy

Hello, minions. It has been a long time since I've last updated. You can use your acorns to pelt me with them. I hadn't intended to make you all wait so long for a new chapter, but my return to university has not exactly gone smoothly, and I had first a writer's block (fillers are always so damn hard to write) and then I had no time to write. I actually began this chapter two weeks ago, stopped, started again, stopped, and started once more, before finally writing this. I was not satisfied beforehand, and still am not completely satisfied, but this chapter needed to be written at some point. Updates will be up as soon as I can write them, but no guarantees, sorry. Those of you who have read this whole paragraph and started to wonder when I am finally gonna go on with the show, well, would you look at that! I'm done! Enjoy the read.

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Rogue lay despondently on Logan's bed, hiding in a mess of covers. Curled on herself like a baby, only some of hair was visible, the rest of her body hidden under the covers. Sitting in a chair next to the bed, Logan chuckled at her.

"You know, kid, you can't stay forever holed up in there," he gestured with his cigar. "Eventually, you'll have to go out there and see all those people you're hiding from. And unlike me, they won't bite."

A groan came from the pile of covers.

"But Ah'm so embarrassed!" whined Rogue pitifully. "Ah acted so lewdly, so shamefully! Ah can't face them now!"

Logan took a long drag of his cigar, letting the silence drag on after her exclamation.

"'Course you can. And you'll have to. You can't stay a recluse in here forever. Hell, _I_ sure as hell know it's tempting, but you have a life to live and you'll live it if I well have to force you to!"

In one fluid movement, he swooped down, gathered the bundle of covers and threw it over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, girl included. He opened the door wide and strolled out as though nothing special was going on, easily overlooking the high-pitched cries of the small wiggling human over his shoulder.

"Now you won't have any choice but to grow some balls, girl!" he said, satisfied, heading straight for the kitchen.

"Wh-What? Logan, what do you–"

Instead of answering, Logan unceremoniously dumped her on the threshold of the kitchen and walked past the entangled mass of covers and limbs to get a beer from the fridge. On the floor, Rogue was left trying to fight her way out of the covers pitifully. After flailing about for a few minutes, she managed to crawl out of them and got to her feet, running a hand through her disheveled hair. She patted down her wrinkled shirt and baggy pants with a mix of disgruntlement and embarrassment and walked to the counter with bare feet. She bent her head and shoulders, hiding behind a curtain of hair, and twisted the hem of her shirt with both hands.

"You're cruel, Logan," said the teenage girl with a small voice. "You knew Ah didn't want to be put under scrutiny."

Logan put a goblet of smoking hot chocolate in front of her without a word and waited patiently for her to take a sip.

"Either you harden yourself and become strong enough that whatever people may say doesn't affect you or you remain a frightened girl who may be hurt by the slightest wind. Your choice."

Rogue looked into the depths of her hot chocolate despondently, hands clasped around the cup to warm her slender fingers. Of course, she could decide to go the easy way and not go out of her zone of comfort. That would mean never showing her face in public again. Or she could use a lifetime's worth of courage and stand on her own two feet.

The relative silence of the kitchen was brutally disrupted by the arrival of a few young mutants, getting Rogue out of her meditative state. With dread, she recognized among them the boy she had thrown out of that very kitchen and had to fight the urge to sink behind the counter to disappear from the students' view. Instead, when the boy stopped dead in his tracks and his friends followed suit in confusion, an intense and awkward staring contest ensued. The kitchen was quickly becoming an area she loathed. She chanced a glance at Logan, but apart from an amused glint in his eyes, nothing seemed out of the ordinary in his countenance. And it certainly didn't seem like he would help her out of that mess any time soon.

_Be strong, he doesn't know you, you can be however you want!_

Confidence washed over her like a wave, as though a thin film of self-reliance was now acting as a barrier between her and the outside world. Her shoulders squared, her back straightened, and she looked at Bobby straight in the eyes.

"Aren't you going to come in?"

Startled by her question, Bobby jumped almost imperceptibly and walked to the refrigerator, friends in tow. As he approached, he felt both the girl's eyes and those, more disturbing, of Logan on him. Both sets of eyes stayed on him for as long as he stayed in the kitchen, and it was not until he and his friends were in the corridor, food and drinks in their hands, that he finally relaxed, his shoulders slumping just the tiniest bit. Somehow, even though they hadn't exchanged a word, the simple presence of the girl in the kitchen had made the atmosphere weigh heavily on him. His friends, noticing his discomfort, gave him inquiring glances, but he merely shook his head and smiled reassuringly.

Back in the kitchen, Rogue slumped against the counter, breath whooshing out of her tiredly. A chuckle came from the resident feral bad boy, making her whirl around and glare at him heatedly.

"It's _not_ funny, Logan!" she said reproachfully.

"Well, it sure as hell ain't sad!" he said with one of his classic sexy smirks.

She shook her head ruefully, thinking he really was impossible.

"C'mon, baby girl," said Logan once it was clear she would not open her mouth for anything else than ingurgitating her hot chocolate. "It's the first time I actually _see_ you being alive and acting like it! You can't blame me for that, can ya?"

With a small, heartfelt smile that softened both her eyes and her face, Rogue shook her head ruefully once more.

"Ah'm angry that you forced mah hand, but…but Ah know that it did me some good, so…so Ah guess Ah should thank you, too."

It had obviously cost her much to act rationally, as opposed to acting on her feelings, but she had learned the hard way that the easy way was not always the best one to choose. She reluctantly admitted that her flight-or-fight instinct usually tended to lean more heavily on the flight side, if simply because she was not strong physically, which made it harder to defend herself. Logan, on the contrary, was not afraid to go headfirst into any situation. She was glad he was on her side.

Logan nodded and ruffled her hair.

"Don't worry about it. You're stronger than you thought you were, hm? I may have forced you to interact, but you don't have to do it all at once."

_Thank God for small mercies!_

And Logan continued: "At least now you can face that _boy_. And he's clearly understood that he was not to mess with you!"

"Ah hope he doesn't hate me," said Rogue quietly. "Ah don't want to be enemies with anybody here. Ah…Ah want to have a normal life, with normal friends, normal problems and normal hobbies, you know? Just a simple…normal life!"

Logan put his arm around the frail girl's shoulders, pulling her flush against him, and sighed as he felt her encircle his waist with her arms.

"We're mutants, baby girl. Normal ain't exactly possible for people like us, but I promise ya, I'll try my damnedest to help you settle here. You'll have your normal life, Marie. Here, in this Mutant Academy."

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I put in this chapter a quote from a movie (not an X-Men one, though). If you manage to identify it and tell me which movie it comes from, I'll answer one question about this fic that you may have.

Now go gather plums. They are rather good, covered with dough, fried, and served with powdered sugar on top. Damn, I'm hungry again.


	10. Moving On

Minions, guess what? I'm alive! Surprising, but true! Well, no time AND no imagination makes for no chapter. But hey, I managed to write this all in one shot, so I'm actually proud of myself for once. And I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. I'm starting to leave the angst behind to actually make this into a Rogan story. (Do tell me if that's not your bag, people, and I'll show you the door. See? It's just behind you.)

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"I don't like how she doesn't interact with anyone besides the mutt."

"Scott, you know that's not true," replied Ororo gently as both of them observed Rogue sitting under a tree on the grounds, Logan a few meters away steadily doing some pushups.

"Well, she doesn't speak much with the other students, you've got to admit that. He's clearly a bad influence."

Ororo sighed and turned her gaze to the young man. She knew he had a soft spot for the new girl, but blaming everything on Logan was not the way to help Rogue.

"She has a past that is worse than that of most of our other students, Scott. And when she got here, a place that should have been a place of peace and recovery, she got seriously injured because of the carelessness of one of our students. _And_ that led to her hurting the only person she trusted in order to recover. You can't blame her for not adjusting as quickly as you'd like her to. She does her best, and she goes to her classes, but asking her to act carefree like the rest of the teens her age is too much to ask for at the present."

Scott's shoulders relaxed fractionally.

"I know," he admitted. "It just…How can she prefer being with _him_ than us or the Professor? He's a beast, for God's sake!"

Seeing that he was riling himself up, Ororo put a calming hand on his arm and kept her tone as gentle and rational as she could.

"You know, when you think about it, it's not that surprising. For one, Logan is the one who found her at first and got her out of her own personal hell. He was there for months, helping her to adjust to the world. It must have been hard, but he didn't leave her. And they have similar personalities. They are both loners at heart, which is only amplified because of their mutations. Most people here are afraid of her because of what she can do–and it's the same for Logan. And then, I know we don't usually discuss this, but there's no hiding that their experiences are similar. They can relate to each other; we can only imagine what they went through."

"I don't want to imagine it," admitted Scott. "Just the thought that such a sweet girl would be used as an experiment makes me sick. I have to force my eyes to avert from her scars when I see her."

Ororo turned to leave, imparting some last words of knowledge to him to reflect on.

"Don't you think that might be as hurtful to her as ignoring her?"

-:-

"You should study a bit, kid. Wouldn't want you to fail your history quiz, now, would we?" asked Logan, head turned in the direction of the young woman who had completely discarded her book in favor of observing him.

Rogue continued to observe him, knees tucked under her chin. She unlaced her arms from around her legs and picked up the book without complaining, though her expression was nothing if not utterly unenthused at the prospect of rereading the underlined parts for the umpteenth time. She preferred looking at the muscles in Logan's back move when he did his pushups. It was much more interesting to look at a bead of sweat roll down those muscles than read about the lives of people long dead.

Logan got up and stretched his arms above his head before walking over to the young woman and gathering his shirt and towel. Rogue, surprised, blurted, "Are you finished already?"

A lazy smirk stretched the feral man's lips as Rogue's cheeks colored at her rude outburst. He stopped toweling the excess sweat from his torso and drawled in a low voice, "Why? Didja want to watch me for a long while still?"

Rogue colored a bit more at his words, especially since Logan was a good-looking man who was currently half-naked in front of her, looking thoroughly ravishing. She averted her eyes shyly, surprised when a hand grabbed her arm to haul her to her feet and pull her behind him and into the sun.

"Well, darlin', since you asked so nicely," chuckled Logan, "and you apparently have no intention of studying, I'll have you help me with those pushups of mine."

He went back into position and, when she didn't move an inch, lifted an eyebrow.

"Well? Get on!"

Rogue, astonished, took a step back in surprise.

"G–Get on?" she stuttered, eyes wide.

"Yeah. Sit on me. It's been a while since I've done pushups with extra weight on my back. Though you can't be more than a hundred pounds, so it won't make much of a difference…"

Rogue's shy character showed itself as she cautiously walked to him and pushed herself up on his back. She settled her bum, cheeks bleeding crimson, then crossed her legs and put her hands respectively between the man's shoulder blades and on his lower back. She stopped moving and squeaked: "I'm done."

Logan shook his head in amusement and looked back at her rigid self.

"Relax, baby girl, I ain't gonna eat ya."

He waited patiently until she breathed out shakily and loosened up, and then began to do his pushups once again. He could not help but tease her a bit and said detachedly, "You can still take your book and study on my back, I don't mind."

Rogue relaxed totally at that, forgetting what position she was in, and cried out, "You're unfair! I thought I was off scot-free if I was on your back, Logan!"

"Never said anything about that, girl," laughed Logan. "Never said anything about that."

-:-

A soft pitter-patter of footsteps woke up Logan. The sounds stopped in front of his room, then the doorknob was cautiously turned, and the door opened with barely a creak; and a click as it was closed once again. His heavy eyelids managed to open a fraction of an inch to regard the young girl who had stopped at the edge of his bed.

"Didn't work?" he asked rhetorically in a murmur, already knowing the answer.

"I…I tried, but I couldn't sleep in that room, and…"

The hushed voice got strangled on that last word, as though she was choking on a sob, and Logan knew that once again, Rogue's attempt to satisfy the other X-Men and at least try to sleep in a room other than his–theirs, really, as it had not worked until now and her clothes had a tendency to find themselves in his drawers and closet–had failed. Again.

"Get in," he offered in a sleep-laden voice. Moments later, a tiny body slithered into the bed behind him and huddled close to his back. He rolled on his back and tucked her against his side, putting his arm around her tense shoulders. Soon enough, her breathing calmed down and she encircled his torso with an arm, tucking the other between them, and put her head on his chest, ear pressed above his heart; within minutes, the steady thumping lulled her to sleep. In Logan's arms, she could always fall asleep. No danger would get her there.

Logan fell back to sleep, wondering drowsily how many times before meeting Marie he had fallen asleep with a girl in his arms without fucking her or feeling out of place. In the end, he decided that the past didn't matter, but this girl did.

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Alright, don't sue me. I know this was short, but it seemed like the right place to stop. Now. We are steadily progressing and taking on more and more followers to convert the world or die trying. Let's put our backs into it, people. With the Goddess' blessings, we shall yet see Logan and Rogue embrace! Raise your hand if you want them to kiss! Whoohoo!


	11. Promises Barely Kept

Hello to all my minions. I'm back. Instead of studying like I should, I actually wrote this little piece for you. Can you believe me if I say I began to write it the day after my last post? Yeah, I know that's pathetic. I had a lack of inspiration, then no time to write, and then I wanted it to be perfect. Hard to do, but still. I managed to do it! Muahahahaha! Welcome to my new chapter.

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Morning, time to wake up and act as a normal diurnal member of his species. Logan got up, cursing the sun, and went straight to his adjoining bathroom in search of a long shower. Hopefully, he would not fall asleep again under the hot water.

As he took the bar of unscented soap–normal people didn't know how lucky they were no to have an ultra-developed sense of smell like him–he pondered that life would be much, much better if only the sun would stop going so high in the sky. Dusk and night were fine, but more light than that tended to irritate him. He was a nocturnal beast, used to hunt and prowl in the shadows. For him, Alaska had been perfect. It was darker than in this bloody mansion, and when it was day out, he had the luxury of staying in bed as long as he wanted.

He quickly lathered and rinsed his hair, hungry for a cigar, and stepped out of the shower to dry himself off.

Meanwhile, Rogue slowly woke up, feeling the loss of body heat acutely. She ensconced her frail body in a nest of covers, curling on herself. A sigh of satisfaction escaped her lips, which then formed a little smile as she dozed lightly, hearing the pitter-patter of small droplets of water battering the walls of the shower stall. However, the latent calm was brutally disrupted as she was brutally awakened; the bedroom door opened and in walked Scott, almost yelling, "Wake up, mutt! We have a situation!"

She glanced at him over the covers, hidden up to her nose, and muttered that Logan was n the bathroom before letting her head flop down on the bed and closing her bleary eyes.

As soon as she did, the bathroom door opened and Logan stared at Scott with a raised eyebrow, continuing to shave.

"What's the matter with you, One Eye?" he asked, never stalling in his movements.

Mildly irritated, Scott repeated that they were needed for an emergency and waited for an eternity for Logan to speak. Finally, after wiping the excess shaving cream from his face with a towel, the feral man stepped into the bedroom and answered him with a question.

"How urgent is it?"

Scott didn't miss the way the older man's eyes flickered to the bed and, more specifically, the mass of covers on it.

"Pretty urgent, we have to go _now_."

Logan nodded and walked to his dresser, unraveling the towel from his waist and letting it fall to the floor. Unsurprisingly, Scott averted his eyes with an outraged yell.

"For heaven's sake, put something on! I don't want to stare at your bloody ass all day!"

Amused, Logan put on a pair of boxers, and retorted, smirking, "Well, get out, then, and close the door behind you. Wouldn't want your precious students to see me butt-naked, now would you?"

Growling, Scott stomped to the door, exclaiming: "You're obnoxious!"

Logan rolled his eyes and fished an undershirt from his dresser.

"You're leaving?" asked a small voice from beneath the mass of covers. Logan turned around, zipping his suit up with distaste, and crouched next to the bed.

"Yeah. You okay without me?"

Rogue nodded imperceptibly.

"Will you be gone long?"

"Well, I can't say," answered Logan truthfully, knowing better than to make empty promises.

"Will it be dangerous?" asked the uneasy girl, refraining from burrowing her head in the crook of his neck and latch onto him so he could not leave.

"Probably, yeah. But I heal quickly, so don't worry about it, yeah?"

Once again, Rogue nodded, trying to convince herself just as much as him.

A pale hand snaked out of the covers and gripped his collar gently; Logan let her pull him closer to her, intrigued. She quickly pressed her mouth to his in a gentle caress before hiding under the covers, cheeks pink.

"Ah've read somewhere a maiden's kiss is supposed to bring good luck," came her muffled voice, heading straight for the befuddled man's brain, "so…come back. You have to."

Logan's face softened slightly.

"I will, baby girl. I will," he promised firmly, putting a hand on the covers where he knew her head was.

He left the room with a determined stride. No one would keep him from his baby girl, his pack mate, his Marie.

-:-

Of course, a long day became even longer when things didn't go as planned. When did they ever, in fact? Logan would think about that when he got a chance, meaning, when people weren't shooting at him from everywhere. Chuck really had to get his facts straight. His info was clearly flawed. And who suffered the consequences? Asking the question was answering it. Cursing mentally, hoping the director would hear him, he jumped out of Scott's way and watched in satisfaction as the other mutant blasted a hole through the ceiling with his laser eyes. The humans, disoriented, coughed as debris and dust fell on them; some of them stopped shooting long enough for Logan to holler to Scott to get out of there. A small ways from him, Scott turned briefly his head to look at him and nodded, only to realize the exit was impossible on their level. More armed men were pouring in, cutting off their escape route.

"Give me 30 secs and get out of here!"

Nothing better to distract people than have a man rush at you with foot-long claws spreading out of his hands.

With an angry roar, he ran at the factions of men and slashed through them with dangerous efficiency. Behind him, he knew that Jean was levitating Scott out of the building through the hole he had made and that she would be defenseless as long as she was doing so; he forced their enemies to focus on him. Not doing so would mean their death.

Bullets embedded themselves in his flesh, but his healing abilities kicked in soon enough, allowing him to keep going. He stopped the carnage only when Jean cried out to him, and then he turned his back on the armed men and ran to her. He squatted slightly in front of her in an invitation for her to climb on his back and, as soon as she was clutching him tightly, he jumped off and began scaling the walls, using his elongated claws to plunge into them and get a firm grip. He climbed his way up rapidly, forced from time to time to move away sharply, during which times he thanked his mutation for having granted him better hearing that allowed him to hear the bullets coming, and finally had to throw Jean to the weather witch with a powerful throw of his left arm as he noticed a new group of men had arrived. These men looked far more trained and deadly, and they did not shake nor hesitate when they pointed their guns at him.

The bullets felt different as they pierced his flesh, bringing out a pained grunt from him. He continued to climb, feeling himself slow down, and felt another volley of bullets embed themselves in his body. His body suddenly felt much heavier and ached more insistently, he noticed, weary.

_What the fuck?_

His eyes widened as his claws suddenly retracted, and he fell down, trying to get a grasp on the smooth walls, his fingers finding none. The men, down below, stopped shooting and watched him plummet to the ground with satisfied cheers.

Logan braced himself for the impact, knowing it would hurt like hell, and was surprised to find his fall stop suddenly before he was levitated out of the building.

_I owe you one, Red. Thanks for having my back_, he thought mentally.

The shooting resumed once more, but except for a few bullets, none of them did more than graze him. He was levitated outside, then deposited in their plane, which didn't wait any longer and turned sharply midair to head back to the Academy.

His knees immediately buckled under him and he fell on his hands and knees, arms straining to support his weight. He put a hand to his head, feeling dizzy, and looked at the floor with blurry eyes that grew steadily more unfocused.

_The fuck?_

"Logan, are you alright?" asked Jean's gentle voice, only to take on a frightened tone as he fell flat on his stomach and breathed heavily as blood poured steadily out of his numerous wounds. "Logan? Scott, help me!"

The young man turned around in his seat and complained, "Come on, mutt, you weigh a ton! Can't you get up by yourself?"

"Believe me, One-Eye," groaned Logan, lifting his head with difficulty to watch the younger male, "having you help me isn't on my list of favourites. If I could move, trust me, I'd rather die than having you help me. Now will you get your ass down here already?"

Grumbling under his breath, Scott walked down the aisle to them and kneeled next to the feral mutant on the same side as his girlfriend. They managed to roll him on his back and the doctor immediately gasped as she inspected his wounds.

"Jesus Christ, Logan, your wounds aren't healing! Turn on your mutation on you'll die of blood loss before those internal injuries can kill you!"

Logan regarded her, severely unimpressed, and snorted something that vaguely resembled a "Don't you think I'd have done so?" before his eyes rolled back in his head and with a last flutter of his eyelids, he sank into a deep oblivion that no matter how much they tried to wake him from, telling him it was dangerous to lose consciousness, he did not move from.

"What's happening?" asked Scott with some measure of concern for the older man. Despite everything, he did respect him, even if he did not like him, and he had no wish to lose a companion.

"I'm not sure," murmured Jean, frightened, "but it looks like he can't activate his mutation. That means he can't move and, more importantly, he can't heal. We have to patch him up and wrap him in bandages before we lose him."

Nodding, Scott walked off to bring her back the first-aid kit while she took Logan's suit off. His mind strayed to a scarred teenager waiting hopefully for the feral man and he winced.

_You better not die from this, mutt. Especially if you think in the least of that kid you left behind._

-:-

The X-Men rushed to the medical bay as soon as they landed, Scott and Jean pushing the gurney they had managed to put Logan on through the corridors, running and hollering at people to move aside, pushing them forcefully when they were too slow. Nothing had to slow them down, nothing could make them lose even a precious second. As they ran by, numerous students gasped, not accustomed to seeing their teachers in their X-Men attire, nor used to seeing the Wolverine hurt, of all people. When Ororo went by, a few minutes later, having finished cutting off the motors and closing the door to the garage, she was immediately mobbed by curious teenagers. However, she brushed them gently aside, stating firmly that now was not the time, and headed for the director's office, knowing he would have called Logan's young protégée there.

It was thus with a heavy heart that she announced to the young girl that the man she looked up to was now in a dire state in the infirmary.

-:-

Tears pooled in Marie's eyes at the news. She had known, when Professor Xavier had called her, that something was not right. She had felt it deep in her bones, like an insidious illness that had spread through her body. She felt numb, detached from reality; it could not be possible. Logan was strong and with his advanced healing, almost nothing could truly hurt him.

Yet, when she saw his arm dangling limply off his hospital bed, blood flowing down from his fingers onto the floor, so awfully red, she felt something fragile break inside her.

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Now, then, time for a few precisions. First, this chapter is needed for Marie to begin to realize how she feels about Logan, even if it is sad and angsty. Brighter times are ahead, I swear. Also, that thing about the maiden's kiss is totally invented by yours truly, so don't look for references for that. Maybe it does exist, maybe not, but it came straight out of my brain. Though if you want to try it or use that line with your loved one, be my guest! ^^

And continue looking for acorns, people. High Priestesses, I leave to you the organization of a group that will plow for potatoes. Those are always good to bribe people with. Maybe we could begin to sell potato chips…


	12. Blood and Tears, Smiles and Laughter

It's been a long time, dear followers! I intended to post this yesterday, but I had to bake all kinds of good stuff, so I had no time to finish this little baby. However, I did manage to finish this today, so your prayers to the goddess Muse must have worked! Keep up the good work! Enjoy, and see you after the new year!

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Blood was so red, a color so very deep that it was almost hypnotizing. It was such a fascinating substance. Having too little of it could kill you and so could having too much of it. She had had a lot of time to analyze that substance. And had come to the conclusion that it really outshone everything when seeping in white hospital sheets. Somehow, that only made her more depressed.

In his bed, Logan was utterly still and paler than she had ever seen him. His strong hands, instead of holding his usual cigar, rested on the bed limply, weighing too much for him to move them even if he been awake.

She had been here before, waiting for him to wake up. Except at that time, she had been more worried about _when_ he would wake up than _if_ he would.

_Wake up, Logan…You've got to…Don't leave me here, not alone…Not without you…_

But she would not cry. Crying was reserved for mourning and she would not mourn as long as his heart beat in his chest.

She curled into a smaller ball in her chair and rocked back and forth, eyes never leaving Logan's prone body. When would he wake up and tell her she was stupid for worrying about him?

Jean entered the medical bay, looking right at ease in the sterile environment.

"Anything changed while I was gone?" she asked the younger female.

Rogue shook her head negatively; Jean sighed heavily.

"I've run some tests on the blood samples I took. Some of the bullets he was shot with contained some substance that neutralizes his mutation."

"But…You do have an antidote or something, right?" she asked cautiously. "Right?" she repeated desperately, not even bothering to hide her despair.

"I'm trying, Rogue, but…I don't know how long it'll be…and…"

_No. No. Nonononono!_

"No. No. He's not gonna die. He's strong, he's a fighter. He won't die that easily. He won't."

She had to find some way to reverse the effects of the drug before Logan's body stopped functioning. She had to.

"Would…would it help if you analyzed my blood? When I was…back there…they gave me something…and since then, I can turn my mutation on and off. Maybe…maybe it could help?"

Jean smiled wanly and nodded.

"Maybe," she agreed quietly. "Maybe."

-:-

His limbs felt heavy. His eyelids weighed more than lead. He could not open them even if he wished to. Whispers came to his ears. Frantic whispers.

"It's not working! It's not working! Oh God, there's so much blood!"

Strange. Those whispers seemed to get more and more filtered, as though his head was underwater. And he had rarely seen people whisper when they were that frantic.

"He needs a blood transfusion! Now!"

Hm. That sounded a lot like Red. She sure seemed agitated. But what for? Who for?

"Then take mine! I've got an idea!"

And suddenly, something pricked his arm and he felt something warm pour in his veins, something that felt warmer than warm and a little reminiscent of home.

And suddenly, his head felt clearer and his limbs lighter, and he could breathe easier. His eyelids fluttered open; his eyes fell on the girl in the chair next to him. A small smile stretched his lips for the first time in days.

"Hey. I made it."

His voice sounded weak and rougher than he had ever heard it sound, even after nights of drinking beer and chain-smoking cigars.

"Yeah. You made it."

Her voice was small too, but the smile in her eyes couldn't be mistaken. And suddenly she was launching herself at him and the tube in their arms wasn't the only thing connecting them. Bodies pressed flush, their tongues tangled together with a desperation only those who had come to the brink of losing their world could know. He could feel her slender fingers tangle in his hair like they would never let go and in a small part of his mind that could still think, he wished they didn't ever let go. But more than that, he wished he could move his arms and wrap them around her.

-:-

"Damn it, Red, tell me when I'll be able to leave this fucking place."

He sounded grouchy even to his own ears, but the medical bay was giving him the chills. It seemed every time he ended up there, it got creepier and creepier. Or maybe that was just him.

Jean sighed, knowing that she would have to be perfectly clear with him if she wanted him to stop grouching.

_At times, I really wish you could not move your lips like the rest of your body_, thought the doctor. _It would be much more peaceful around here, for one._

"Look, giving you a transfusion of Rogue's blood helped to stabilize you, but it didn't cure you. We're still working on finding something to counteract the drug in your system. Fortunately, it seems that Rogue can recall every mutation she absorbed, so she turned yours on when we did the transfusion. It saturated her blood, entered your body, and had some time to act and disperse through your body before the drug did its thing and nullified the mutation. Fortunately, the mutation had enough time to heal some of the damage you suffered to your internal organs. Since then, we've transfused some of her blood to you 3 times in smaller doses, healing more and more your internal organs. You aren't completely healed yet, but we can't take more blood from Rogue, even if she wants us to. It would be dangerous."

Logan grunted.

"I know that."

"Look, Logan," sighed the doctor, "just be patient. It's only a matter of time before we find a cure. I know it's not easy for you to remain on that bed without being able to move, but we're analyzing your blood and Rogue's, so it's only a matter of time before we find a cure."

He wished he could get out sooner, see Rogue's bright smile and warm eyes and smell that uniquely amazing scent of hers. He missed her. It was strange, when he thought about it. He did not mind being tied down if it was by her.

In a way, though, he had to wonder whether he had responded to Marie's kiss for a good reason. He knew that adrenalin could cause people to confuse their high with sexual attraction, but had that been the case with him and Marie? Had he really answered her desperate kiss out of love? He couldn't be sure anymore.

Jean looked at his silently for a long moment, seeing him lost in thoughts. Only one person had ever managed to make him that silent and introspective. It was thus not hard to guess what, or rather who, he had been thinking about. Especially since she had seen the scene between him and Rogue. At least, the beginning, for she had tiptoed out of the room to leave them alone to express their raw emotions.

"Stop thinking so much, Logan, it doesn't suit you. Why don't you just go with the flow? Just do what feels right."

She felt like she was channeling her inner Ororo, but hopefully she didn't sound fake, for she had truly meant every word.

"Huh?" asked Logan, brought out of his thoughts brutally.

"I hate to say that, and God knows Scott would rather die than admit it, but everyone already sees you like a couple without the sex part. You do everything together! You are always together, you eat together, you get dressed together, you sleep together without _sleeping together_…what's so different about being with her?"

He didn't care about social conventions; hell, he didn't even know how old he was so he could be labeled as a cradle-robber for sleeping with just about anybody. But Marie…his little Marie was different from those women he used to sleep with. She was good and kind and she was more than a warm body to satisfy his sexual urges. She was the only person he could bear to be around for more than a few minutes without having the urge of strangling them. But could he see himself loving her as all girls want to be, to bring her flowers and chocolate and be all romantic?

The thought nearly made him gag. That wasn't him. He was the "beer-cigar-leather" type of guy, not the prince-like sissies teenage girls seemed to like nowadays.

"That can't be me…" he murmured in a defeated manner, closing his eyes.

"I know…" answered a tender whisper.

His eyes snapped open. Jean had surreptitiously disappeared, leaving the young girl he had been thinking about to enter alone and, more importantly, to _stay_ alone with him in the medical ward. He mentally cursed the drug for keeping him from turning on his mutation. With it, he would have heard and smelled her coming a long time ago–before she ever left the elevator's doors, really. Damn that Red for disappearing so easily when it was convenient to her. And just how much had Marie heard?

The teenager sat down on a chair next to his bed that he had mentally dubbed hers and remained silent for a while.

"My…"

She stopped, wetted her lips nervously, and glanced at him before staring at her hands and forcing them by sheer strength of will to stop from twisting the hem of her shirt.

"I was so…confused…so…uncertain of me…of my feelings…of everything…I don't have any friends here…nobody I could ask for help to understand myself…so I asked my inner Logan…I…I allowed him to get out of the part of my mind where I seclude every personality that I was forced to absorb to help me understand myself. I spent some time locked in my mind with him–you–and we…we talked…Well, I talked, mostly…and I began analyzing my life from the moment we met…everything I did…everything I did…every single moment…and I realized…I realized that the moments I've spent with you ever since I left that…that place…are the happiest ones of my life. I've never been so content before. Even worrying about you when you go on missions cannot bring down my spirits. My soul feels at peace when you're with me, Logan. I don't care about anything else."

She finally looked at him beseechingly, and he found his eyes couldn't leave her face.

"I'm not so nice as you may think," he finally uttered in a low but sincere voice.

"I know. You're Logan. I've got you in my head, remember?" she said with a small chuckle. "I know your quirks and bad habits, and I know you've got a hot temper, but I also know you wouldn't hurt me. I don't regret anything I did, I after thinking hard about it, I'm convinced that my feelings for you are real. I can't and won't force my feelings on you." She took a fortifying breath and finally murmured, "But know that I love you."

She made to get up, but a large hand grabbed onto her forearm, trembling with the strain it had taken the feral man to make his body move. Her eyes locked onto his, barely daring to hope.

"I know I desire you. I know I want to feel your body hot and supple against mine. I want to devour you whole again and again and _again_. Does that make you afraid?"

The young girl's face flushed brightly under the mature man's intense gaze. His words aroused sensations inside her that almost frightened her with their intensity. This man, even immobilized as he was, was more _man_ than any of the other males she had ever encountered. He made her head swim with his very existence.

"It does. A little bit," she admitted. The world he could bring her in was so very unknown to her that it was frightening. However, she did believe in him. If all was dark around her, he would be the light to bring her home.

And then the very man she had been thinking about whispered in her ear, "I desire more than just your body, little girl…"

Cheeks crimson, Rogue answered shyly, looking at him through her eyelashes, that she would never run from the big, bad wolverine.

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Gosh, that was hard to write! Did I make this too sappy or unrealistic? Give me some feedback.

Now, did any of you abduct Santa for Christmas? 'Cause I couldn't find him yesterday to do it myself and use his sleigh to visit every home on Christmas Eve to sprinkle Rogan everywhere. Hm…I'll have to hunt down the culprit…See ya then!


	13. Interlopers

So…Later than I expected…Life is harsh. Good, but harsh. Remember that, minions! Sorry for those of you I had promised an update faster, but things just wouldn't go my way. I can't promise any date for an update, but I have some ideas for the next chapter, so hopefully it'll be soon. Now. Put on your red loincloths, we are going to war against the pagans! Graaaaa!

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There were things that annoyed him, such as being observed for any amount of time.

"Stop staring, girl, I'm not going anywhere," he grounded out, looking up at the teenager sitting nearby, elbows on her knees and head supported by her fists. Her gaze was unchanging, never straying, and somewhat unnerving. He was a predator; predators like him were unused to gazes; gazes meant they were seen and their prey was aware of their presences, ergo they couldn't feed and would die. Gazes were never positive.

Rogue smiled sheepishly, cheeks rosy, and averted her eyes; the next moment, he felt them on his form once again. He sighed and rolled on his back, stopping his push-ups for the time being.

"What is it? I'm not going to just up and disappear," he grumbled, looking at her with deep green eyes.

Rogue let herself fall on her back and looked up at the bright sky.

"I know, Logan," she murmured. "It's not…That's not why I'm looking at you…I…"

The words she whispered were so soft that even his acute ears couldn't hear them.

"Wait, what? I didn't hear that last part," said Logan, looking more intently.

"Don't tease me, Logan!" whined Marie, hiding her face with her hands.

"Hey, I'm really not! Come on, what was it you said?" asked the feral man, now even more curious than before. He wrestled with her, pinning her rather easily to the ground, and took her hands away from her face, revealing to him its crimson colour.

Her face felt hot as she murmured, looking anywhere but at him, "I just find it a bit difficult to believe that we're together…"

"Together? D'you have amnesia or som'thing, Marie? We've been together ever since I got you out of that hellhole!"

Marie fought the urge to slap her forehead and wondered whether he was doing it on purpose.

"I didn't mean that…I mean…"

Words failed her as she tried to explain in her embarrassment; Logan looked at her with laughing eyes for a moment, enjoying the situation, before crushing her to his chest and observing her with darkened eyes.

"I know _ex-ac-tly_ what you mean, Marie," he positively purred in her ear, relishing in the shiver that shook her tiny frame. "Shall I show you what that implies _in detail_?"

Frozen as though Logan had used some immobilizing mutant power, Marie couldn't move as the feral immortal covered her body entirely with his and proceeded to nip his way down her neck.

And then somebody had to ruin it.

"LOGAN? What the—Get off of her!"

Groaning internally and growling externally, Logan slowly turned his head to look at the interloper.

"What do you want, One Eye?"

"Firstly, since when are you out of the medical ward?" asked the younger man, approaching them rapidly.

"Since this morning, idiot, and I was just taking advantage of that fact, so if you don't mind, could you _please fuck off_?"

Scott stopped at their side, still unhappy to see that Logan had not moved from his place on top of Rogue, even though he had stopped his advances.

"When did Jean manage to find that cure? How come I didn't know?" he asked, still surprised.

"Well, there was no time to tell you, _Scott_. You were still asleep after your mission, so she didn't wake you up and came directly to me."

There was a moment of silence before Scott cleared his throat and murmured something along the lines of, "That still doesn't make it appropriate."

Logan finally rolled off of Marie and gave Scott the most bored gaze he could muster. Still, Scott could not help but notice that his arms were still wrapped around the girl's waist.

"You know as well as I do that I could go out with Wheels and that would still make me a cradle-robber, for all we know. Besides, I'm not prying into your private life, so leave mine alone. AND Rogue was the one to decide for herself. _I _didn't push her into anything. Now go away, I've got better things to do than entertain you."

Scott didn't need him to say it to understand that he meant "and better people to entertain". Biting hard on his lower lip, he reluctantly nodded and, with a last backward glance, walked away.

"Damn that guy," grounded out the feral mutant. "One of these days, I'm going to kick his ass all the way to Pluto. I swear I will."

Chuckling, Rogue sat up and shook her head, looking at the back of the teacher who had just disturbed them.

"You know, he's not so bad. He's just…concerned. But I admit he does have poor timing."

"Damn right he does! He's like my own personal nanny."

"Well…Since he's kinda ruined the mood…How about a walk? It would clear our heads…"

Shrugging, Logan muttered a "Why not?" and began to walk away calmly. Rogue stayed behind for a moment, only long enough to appreciate his male build, before running to catch up with him, cheeks rosier than before.

In the end, since Logan didn't want to be disturbed by nosy people once again, they ended up "borrowing" Scott's motorcycle, which, Rogue thought, was probably a form of revenge for disturbing them.

Pressing her body flat against Logan's, Rogue giggled gently at the thought, enjoying the wind whipping at her hair. The sound made the male turn his head slightly, brows cocked in a questioning manner.

"What's making you giggle so much, Marie?" he asked, turning his gaze back to the road.

"Nothing, nothing. I was just thinking how good friends you and Professor Scott are."

"Friends? Me and that bastard? Did you bump your head or something? In what kind of world could we possibly be friends?"

Marie shrugged happily, murmuring in his neck that only good friends could get on each other's case so often without breaking all bonds with each other or killing each other.

Logan stared resolutely ahead, privately thinking that if killing the guy had been enough to resolve everything, he would have done it long ago.

Or maybe not. After all, for all he was a pain in the ass, Scott was a great way to relieve boredom.

He didn't know if that was enough to call the guy a "friend", but he wasn't about to tell her the way he viewed Scott. Some things were better off unknown to her.

And then he pulled over in front of a convenience store.

"You stay here, girl. I'm gonna go get some beer. Do you want something?"

Taking her helmet off, Rogue shook her head and coursed her fingers through her hair while thinking.

"Um…I'd like a soda, if possible…"

"Sure. See you in a moment."

With that last sentence, Logan left her alone with the motorcycle and entered the convenience store. She looked at him through the windows, a small smile playing on her lips, and hummed a happy tune, drumming her fingers on the body of the motorcycle.

Unfortunately for herself, Rogue didn't know how appealing she could seem to men of all ages.

There were many people stopping by that convenience store, it seemed, and some of them just happened to be teenage punks. At that rebellious age, many people don't see straight and think even less straight.

"Hey, babe, what are you doing here?" asked a young man who came to her with a swagger in his steps. "What's a pretty thing like you doing alone?"

Rogue was disconcerted, not knowing how to deal with that kind of attention from him. To her dismay, two of his friends soon joined him, catcalling, and crowded around her, looking at her with leering eyes.

"Wow, would you look at that, Mac! You got yourself a fine bitch there!"

"Yeah, ain't that right, Bobby! I got an eye for pretty things, don't I?" replied the first guy.

"Ya got that right! Now will the girl come an' play with us, ya think?"

There was no way they were letting her go free, apparently. And they were too close for comfort. She could almost feel their gazes on her, so close were they to her. And Logan was still in the convenience store. She had to find a way to warn him.

"Please leave me alone," she said as calmly as she could muster. There, with his sensitive ears, there was no way he had not recognized her voice.

"Hey, would you look at that? The girl's got a voice!" exclaimed Bobby, spurred on by his friends' whoops.

She glanced at the store with the corner of her eyes, noticed that Logan was looking at her, and immediately wondered why he was not coming to help her. Instead, he gave her a strange look with a cocked eyebrow and did a motion with his head that she could only take as an encouragement to do the job herself. Wouldn't he help her?

She suspiciously glanced at him once more, wondering why he was just standing there and observing them calmly while handing the cashier a twenty dollar bill.

Fine. She didn't know what he was playing at, but she had more important matters to deal with, namely three teenagers with unbalanced hormones.

"My boyfriend will be really unhappy if he sees you with me," she pointed out to no avail.

"Yeah? I ain't seeing him coming, babe! How about you keep us company until he comes back, eh?" drawled Mac mockingly.

This time, she turned her head fully, seeing Logan closing the door behind him, and pointed him out to the boys—come on, they really couldn't qualify as men.

"That's my boyfriend."

The teens stopped laughing, looking at Logan and receiving a blank stare back, then shrugged with a "He doesn't seem to care, honey. How about you ditch him and come with us? We could have a nice time together."

And then one of the boys had the gall to place his arm around her shoulders.

She snapped.

Her body moved on its own, as swiftly as if she had done the very same movements for years, and her left hand came up to break the nose of the guy who had had the misfortune to touch her. If he hadn't released her already, he would have then, for he yowled in pain and clutched at his nose even as his friends, outraged, swore loudly and tried to grab her unsuccessfully. She swiftly evaded them, landing a dropkick on one of them, which caused him to fall to the ground, and rounding on the last one dangerously. She kicked his legs out from under him and looked at him with warning eyes; if he got up, she would make him fall twice as hard.

He took the hint and stayed down, afraid of her now that he had seen how dangerous she could be.

Then a hand fell on her shoulder, causing her to whirl around. Her wild eyes met the feral ones of a certain Wolverine.

"Well, no need for me to coddle you, eh, Marie?" he asked with a smirk, eyes dancing. "I knew you could do it. Everyone has a spine. It's just a matter of finding it."

Even as she continued to stare unblinkingly, incredulous at his cheek, he handed her a can of soda—more accurately, he pressed it against her face to wake her up from her vacant state, causing her to jump, and then put it in her hands while laughing—and patted her on the head.

"Here. Your reward."

She pouted while he put the beer in one of the satchels of the motorcycle, muttering that he was mean, but the bright smile he sent her way as he told her that he was proud of her warmed her heart so that her lips twitched and she finally gave up, putting her helmet back on.

"Damn. You had better drive me to a good place to make up for this," she said, poking him in the back as he turned the motorcycle on.

On the asphalt, three youngsters twitched in pain.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

I think I'm gonna sleep until the next century. Wake me up then. And you had better be numerous, minions.


	14. Marks and Property

It seems that the next century came faster than expected. Oh well. It just means you get to read this little baby sooner. Now, minions, I hope that under the direction of the High Priestesses, you used Valentine's Day to spread Rogan around you. I would be very disappointed otherwise, since I did write this mostly on that day (yeah, what can I say, I don't have a significant other at the moment). Anyway, revel in this, minions! This is what you all hoped I would write last time! Muahahahahaha!

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The motorcycle slowly rolled to a stop at the end of the dirt path.

"It's here. Get off, Marie. Look around."

The teenager slowly got off the motorcycle and took off her helmet. She took a few steps, eyes roving across the surroundings. Truly, nature was beautiful. The trees were tall and proud—so much like Logan, she chuckled mentally—but they soon gave way to high shrubbery before changing to a sandy shore. Beyond it, the lake stretched on, a big expanse of dark blue water. A slight breeze ran through her hair, ruffling it as easily as it did the surface of the lake.

A large smile bloomed on her face. She twirled around, watching Logan get the supplies out of the baggage holder.

Pink tainted her cheeks as he approached her calmly. She averted her eyes to her feet as she shucked her shoes and bent her toes in the sand. Logan stopped next to her, put the beers down, and handed her her soft drink. She took a careful sip as he uncorked a bottle and took a large gulp. She thanked him bashfully and, acting before she could change her mind, clenched her eyes shut as she landed a soft kiss on the feral male's cheek.

Logan smirked and took her chin in his fingers, bending over her with flashing eyes.

"If you want to thank me, here's the right way to do it," he growled before taking her lips forcefully. He kissed her hungrily, urging their tongues in a fiery dance that warmed the girl more than any drink ever could, and only let her go to admire his hard work. Her lips were red and swollen, but her eyes were alight with stars.

"That's the way you do it," he murmured huskily in her ear, causing her to become beet red.

With a smirk, he took another gulp of his beer and licked his lips, growling seductively that this was the best combination ever. Rogue joined him as he sat down and observed the lake.

"Ah didn't think you would bring me to such a place," she said as she sat down.

Logan looked amused.

"Didn't seem like a place I would be found in, eh? Well, I guess that's different from smoky bars and dingy hotels. Still, nature is more relaxing than most things. Except maybe cigars and alcohol."

Rogue chuckled at his words. Somehow, that wasn't surprising.

"Don't forget I'm a predator, baby girl. I'm most at ease in the wild. Hunting is such a great way to pass time and get my blood roaring in my ears," he said with a lazy grin, looking far into the distance.

She sure wouldn't forget that. If she had to catalogue people into herbivores and carnivores, she was pretty sure he'd be high up in the carnivores list.

He finished his beer and lay down in the sand calmly, hands behind his head. He closed his eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips, but Rogue's gaze never wavered from his content form as she sipped her soft drink. This was nice. Calm, just…so at ease. She liked that comfortable silence.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes before looking down at her can of soda and then glancing at him once again. She licked her lips. The drink was sweet. And now she wanted something different. Something bitter but reassuring. Something more like…

Her gaze strayed once again, and this time, her eyes wandered all cross Logan's body. Her torso slowly bent forward over his and she pressed her hands in the sand on either side of him. Then she slowly bent down, slowly, slowly, until her hair made a curtain around them and her lips brushed against his. They were hot, soft and pliant under her touch, and as they opened, she was given access to his mouth. Surprisingly, he didn't move and let her lead in whichever direction she wanted. She kept the kiss slow and tender, and it did convey every last ounce of her emotions and feelings for him. She showed him how much she cared for him, how much he meant to her. How much she wanted to be his and him to be hers.

However, it seemed Logan had different plans.

"Marie," he managed to growl, "you're pushing my patience."

Surprised, the young girl leaned back a little, trying to understand him.

"Girl, you're practically begging me to take you right here and now," he explained, tension coursing through his body as he visibly restrained himself. "If you were anybody else, I'd have you already down under me and panting my name without a thought to whoever may see us."

She became crimson and slowly looked down his body. She inhaled sharply as she saw the obvious proof of his words. If she had pressed her body against his, she would have felt it long before now. With a rather becoming blush, she straddled his waist and settled against his crotch.

"This should be fine like this. If we don't take our clothes off, there's nothing to see."

His muscles strained; a vein pumped loudly on his neck. He threw his head back, clenching his teeth, and balled his hands into fists at his sides to make sure he wouldn't touch her. She would be the one in charge this time. He wouldn't have her run away from him. Not now, not ever. Not as long as he lived.

Rogue bit her lip and pressed a little more firmly against Logan's hard member. Even through their clothes, the friction felt amazing. She looked at his face as it contorted in a mixture of pain and pleasure and found herself wanting to make those lips part. She wanted to hear his voice. She bent down, put her lips at his ear, and murmured, "Ah want to hear you, Logan. Ah want to hear it all."

And then she undulated her hips.

A strangled groan escaped the man's lips at the movement. He threw his head to the side, clenching his eyes harder as he breathed deeply through his nose.

"Marie…" he warned, the sound changing into a guttural moan as she rubbed against his manhood.

She didn't heed his warning and brushed her lips against his exposed neck, all the while continuing to rub against him.

"Ah like nature too, Logan…And Ah think Ah'll like it even more now…" she murmured in pleasure, lost in the sensations she took from him.

His hips bucked against hers at the seductive tone before he managed to control himself again. That, however, caused the girl's eyes to sparkle. A moment later, she rolled her hips, gnawing on her lower lip to keep from moaning out loud. It was hard, but she wanted to hear him much more. Sensing him shudder beneath her, hearing him moaning thanks to her ministrations…it gave her a feeling of power, of wholesomeness. This man, this was the very epitome of maleness, was hers, and he was giving himself up to pleasure _she_ was inducing in him.

She suckled hard on his neck; she wanted to mark him. He was hers. He was hers, and everyone would know it. His skin was slightly salty as she sucked and nipped at it. It made it all the more real, and somehow she got heady with his masculine scent.

Her hips undulated; her breasts pushed on his toned torso. A zing of pleasure coursed through her; her back arched, she let go of his neck to pant a heady moan. That did it for Logan. No matter the restraint he may have, to have her panting his name in lust, coupled by the scent of her arousal made his feral side react that much quicker.

His arms came around her to hold her against his chest, and one of his hands trailed down to her pants to snake into her panties. Marie shuddered atop him and gripped his coat with trembling hands as he slipped a finger in her and rolled her clit with the pad of his thumb. The delightful little moans she uttered made his length become steely in his pants and he knew he wouldn't last long. His blood was pounding in his ears already.

"Come for me, sweet girl," he growled in her ear. "I want to see you unravel in front of me and piece you back together to do it again. And again. And. Again."

He punctuated his last words with a sharp nip at her left ear, reveled in the shudder that shook her small frame, and pinched her clit.

Rogue came with a cry, her body tensing in pleasure as her world became white. She found herself sprawled atop Logan when she came to a moment later. The damn man was not even panting and had the gall to look at her with a smirk as he lapped her essence off his fingers.

Blushing crimson, she lightly slapped him on the chest, muttering to him to stop that because it was embarrassing. She hid her face in his chest as he laughed, putting an arm around her. He looked at the darkening sky with a small smile. In the end, the day had been good.

-:-

It was night by the time they returned to the mansion. By that time, they would have expected everyone to be in their bedroom, but there was one person who was waiting for them.

"At long last, mutt. I hope for you that you didn't put a single scratch on my bike."

Despite the scathing words, Logan merely rolled his eyes. For once, he was in a too good mood to be riled up so easily. Sensing it, Scott paid close attention to the couple. Of course, Rogue's rosy tint to her cheeks, their mussed hair and happy glow could be from simply going out, but somehow, he doubted that. Even without Logan's keen nose, he could tell something was different.

Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. There were things more important that he needed to tell him.

"The Professor asked me to tell you he is waiting for you in his office," he said, turning to go back indoors. He stopped mere feet from the door. "Oh, and Logan? If this is just all a game to you and she ends up crying, I'll kill you, ally or not."

He left without another glance. His job was done.

Logan's eyes remained trained on the door; he didn't turn to look at Rogue who was scrutinizing him.

"What an idiot," he finally exhaled. "Well, looks like Wheels is waiting for me. I hope it won't be long."

The teenager nodded calmly.

"Ah'll make myself a cup of hot chocolate then I'll go to bed. Um…see you then."

The flustered girl disappeared in the dark bowels of the school while her older companion headed straight for the headmaster's office. He didn't bother to knock, knowing the man was aware of his presence.

"What is it, Wheels? Can't whatever it is wait until tomorrow?" he asked grouchily.

The professor smiled his usual gently smile; Logan hated it when he acted all gentle and patriarchal like that. He didn't like him acting like a father figure.

"Yes, it could have, but I figured you'd prefer to know this as soon as possible. I may have found a link to your past."

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Aaaaand…Cut! Thank you all for your hard work, see you next time!


	15. Rogues and Packs

Welcome back for this last installment, minions! You shall notice a return to the theme in this chapter, which I hope you will appreciate. I do apologize for the lateness of the chapter, but I wanted it to be perfect, and unfortunately, real life had other ideas for me (such as studying. Cruel, really cruel.). I thus give you the last chapter and order you to go fuel the flames of Rogan everywhere! With this, my work shall be complete and I will now be put to rest. I leave the rest to you.

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Morning came too soon for both mutants. While Logan was itching to leave in search of answers, hoping to find something to garnish the blank slate that should have been his memories, he did not look forward to leaving Marie behind. But he had to do this journey alone. That much he knew. So he merely enjoyed their last moments while the sun rose slowly over the horizon, bathing the landscape in a pale light. Marie, for the moment, was still asleep, but when she woke up, she resolutely kept her eyes shut in an effort to keep the morning at bay, as though it wouldn't exist if she couldn't see it.

She shifted a bit in Logan's arms, which in turn tightened around her form. Her breathing wavered and accelerated somewhat, warning him that she was emerging from sleep slowly. With a deep sigh, she rolled over and burrowed her face in his chest.

"Mgnmmm…How early is it?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Too early," he replied softly. "Go back to sleep, little girl."

He moved his arm so it encircled her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. With the barest nod, she went back to sleep. If she'd known it would be the last time she would be held like this by him in a long while, she would have treasured the moment more.

-:-

She remained for a long time on the steps of the school, looking in the distance long after he'd disappeared.

"He'll come back," said Ororo with conviction, walking calmly up to her.

"I know."

_I know, but I still wish he was here with me._

With a last glance, she went back in the mansion, hands firmly lodged in her jacket pockets.

-:-

School went on. Slowly. Slowly. Slooooooowly. And then things got crazy during one of Rogue's history classes.

"_Rogue. This is Professor Xavier. Please come to my office at once. It's about Logan._"

She jumped to her feet at once, and with only a rushed excuse to her teacher, ran down to the man's office. His door could not come into sight soon enough. She wrenched it open, skidding across the floor, and her eyes roamed the room wildly until she ascertained that her Wolverine was not there.

"Where is he? What's the problem with him?"

_Is he in danger?_

"Please sit down, Rogue," said the Professor not unkindly.

She did so, anticipation positively pouring off of her little frame. Her eyes stayed glued on him with disturbing single-mindedness as she wiggled on the edge of her seat.

"As I didn't get any news from Logan since his last update on his situation nine days ago, I took it upon myself to use Cerebro to assure myself of his well-being."

There was a long moment of tense silence as he sighed and Rogue bit down harshly on her lower lip.

"Something went wrong in Alkali Lake, I believe. As far as I could see, Logan has no recollection of himself. He is in an animalistic survival mode at the moment. I want to get him back safely so that we can try to reverse that situation, but it would be better if you went too. I believe it would make him less aggressive when we retrieve him."

Blood dribbled down her chin, unnoticed.

"Why are we still here, then?"

-:-

Rogue was the first one out of the plane, followed closely by Scott, Jean, and Ororo. Scott tried, in vain, to tell her to wait until they could pinpoint Logan's location. She didn't wait.

Running into the woods, Rogue let her inner Logan take control of her actions. Her senses became sharper, her mind clear with a single thought at the forefront: she had to find Logan. She had to find him, and to get him back. And God help anyone who dared to hurt him.

Her nose caught scent of him and she veered to the right, sweeping through the foliage easily; behind her, the three adults made much more noise as they tore after her, scaring away any and all animals that may have hidden in the underbrush.

"_Professor! Where is the mutt?_" asked Scott mentally, knowing that Professor Xavier was listening to them thanks to Cerebro.

"_Keep going straight. He's less than a mile away from you. Rogue is leading you straight to him._"

_How does she even know which way to go?_

Rogue looked like a driven woman as she ran silently, much like she was a part of the forest. So much so that Scott, Jean and Ororo had trouble keeping up with her.

_Where is he? Where are you, Logan?_

And then, suddenly, a vicious growl made them stop dead in their tracks. A growl that was frightening in its intensity. The adults didn't move, feeling dread pool in their stomachs as Rogue still headed straight for the man who couldn't recognize her. She had enough sense to walk cautiously, but with every move she made, Logan's growling increased in strength. Kneeling next to a half-frozen river in only his jeans and covered in blood and grime as he was, his piercing green eyes were that of a wary predator.

"Rogue!" called Scott. "Don't get too close! We don't know how he'll react!"

Still, the teenager didn't stop advancing.

"He won't lash out at me," she said in absolute conviction. "We're pack."

_I may be Rogue, but we're pack. _

The feral Logan looked at her warily, tensing as she approached cautiously—she knew better than to presume of anything in his state—and sniffed the air. Somehow, her scent was familiar. And more than that, it was laced with his.

Curiosity won over his wariness, but he still approached her slowly, sniffing around her while keeping an eye on her, ready to bolt at any movement on her part.

-:-

The X-Men stayed deathly still as they looked at the scene unfolding before their eyes. Logan was acting very much like a cautious wild animal, head cocked to the side. He moved closer still, pressing his nose against Rogue's palm, only to jump back as Scott shifted slightly. Immediately, his green eyes pierced Scott's as a warning growl rumbled in his chest. The younger man had some self-preservation instincts left, it seemed, for he didn't make a single movement.

Without looking back, Rogue murmured, just loud enough so that the X-Men could hear, "He won't come back. Not in this state. Go back and leave me alone with him."

Ororo was the one to object this time, and it was a good thing she was the one to talk, for Scott or Jean would have said it much less gently.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Rogue? We all know Logan is dangerous on any good day. Leaving you alone with him in his state seems most dangerous."

The young woman gently and slowly shook her head.

"No, it's not. If anything, he'll just be more protective of me than before."

Logan growled again, lower in his throat. His eyes flashed at the three adults. Dangerously so.

"My guess is, you'd better go before he does anything. Really. I'll be fine, I swear. Besides, Professor Xavier will keep an eye on me and Logan."

Her eyes begged them to do as she said.

"Do it. Please." She mouthed in desperation.

"…Damn it. We'll keep an eye on you. At the slightest hint of danger, we'll be back for you," promised Scott grudgingly.

-:-

Living in a cave-like formation in a snow-laden forest with a feral man really made Rogue feel like she had gone back to the very beginning of human society. And it didn't help that in his state, Logan didn't seem capable of human speech. It made her put all her knowledge of animal and pack interaction to use. It was surprisingly easy to go back to using such interactions.

Show your throat, nuzzle at the corner of his jaw, avert your eyes slightly to the side…

Such was her new way of living, deep in the wilderness.

She remembered the first time she had been cold. Logan had definitely noticed and had growled low in his throat before disappearing for a few hours and coming back with a freshly-killed grizzly. While she had cooked the meat, he had cleaned the pelt and then proceeded to wrap it around her, furry side in to provide maximum heat. It was strange, thought Marie, that despite his state of undress, he did not feel any cold.

So she smiled and nuzzled next to him, right under his jaw. In answer, he purred deep in his chest, and her smile widened when she felt it rumble.

"I believe in you, Logan," she murmured gently. "I know you can get out of whatever spell you're under and I'll wait however long I have to, so don't worry about me and take your time to get better."

-:-

The first sign Marie had that things were not right—within what she had come to call normalcy, at least—was Logan's wide pupils fixed unblinkingly on her. She smiled uneasily, unsure of what was different. He was growling, prowling, and sniffing in her direction. And then her cheeks reddened as she realized exactly _why_ he was acting the way he did.

_Oh my God! I could die of embarrassment!_

She hid her burning face in her hands, then yelped as something pressed against her inner thighs.

"Aaaah! Logan! Don't do that!" she reprimanded, pushing his head off and away. Really, now was not the time for him to act like a curious dog.

_Yeah…having girl problems around an animalistic male is really no fun._

She had to fend him off for the rest of the day. And the next one.

And then, God knows why, she had the bad idea to have a lurid dream. She didn't remember the specifics, but suddenly, she found herself awoken by a perfect example of manliness pressed on top of her and avidly sniffing at her. She quickly blinked the remaining sleep away from her eyes and hissed sharply, "Logan! Get off of me! Regain your senses!"

She wouldn't have minded his advances if he had been himself. She didn't fear him, and she knew he wouldn't hurt her. Furthermore, if having sex with him helped him regain his senses, she wouldn't have held back. However, as it was, she was a normal girl, and she wanted her first time to be with the man she loved. All of him. Despite her wishes, she knew that if he didn't relent, there would be no point in opposing him, for he was much stronger than she was. Still, for principle, she struggled. And maybe that was what did it. The spark that she had noticed in his eyes when her menstruations had begun rapidly expanded into a full-blown sparkle and he tensed above her, grunting in what seemed to be pain.

"L—Logan?" she stuttered, unsure of what was going on. She slowly put her arms around his tense shoulders in a comforting gesture.

The feral man shuddered; then all tension seemed to drain from his body.

He slowly looked up, and his eyes shone brightly in the darkness, illuminated by the dying embers of the fire.

And then he smiled his crooked smile, and she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him to her, sobbing in relief in his neck.

"You're back, you're back…"

"I told you I'd be back for these," he answered matter-of-factly before chuckling, "besides, I couldn't let myself take you without being in full control of myself, hm?"

She gasped in mock outrage.

"Logan!"

"Less talk, more kissing. Let's do this before Wheels notices I've gone back to normal and sends someone to take me back."

Any words she might have said were then muffled by Logan's lips, and she found that she really didn't care about opposing both of their wishes.

_You're right. They can go to hell for the moment._

-:-

In his office, Professor Xavier smiled warmly. So she had finally managed to draw him out of that secluded space he had created within his mind and retreated to in order to protect himself. He would wait for a while before announcing to his X-Men that Logan had regained his senses. After all, the couple needed some quality time. Alone. Undisturbed by Scott. For now, he would let them have some time to themselves. Then he would check on them, when he was sure they were not involved in some horizontal tango.

Still, he was anxious for them to come back. They were some of his favourite people, and they never ceased to amuse and amaze him. The school seemed too quiet when they were not there.

It had struck him as strange that those two, of all people, had gravitated toward each other, for their personalities, while similar, were also quite different. But perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps this actually helped them complement each other so that they could reach that elusive balance that provided happiness and contentment.

Yes. For while they may both be rogues, together, they were pack.

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And so, dear minions, this fic has now officially ended! Thank you all for staying with me until now. Now go forth, and write your own gift to the Rogan fandom! Let all of you become pioneers of virgin soil and plant the flowers of Rogan! I urge you!


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